


Whispers in the Dark

by Smutnug



Series: Lianna [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Cunnilingus, F/M, Loss of Virginity, Masturbation, Multi, Oral Sex, Past Rape/Non-con, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Polyamory, Shameless Smut, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-10-24 05:52:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 21,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10735461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smutnug/pseuds/Smutnug
Summary: Zevran catches the Warden in a private moment and offers to help out.(My first fanfic, please be kind and sorry in advance for all the smut cliches!)





	1. Chapter 1

The evening air chilled Lianna's skin as she left the river, smooth stones slipping beneath her feet. She wrung out her wet hair, then used her hands to sluice excess water from her body. With a sigh, she linked her fingers together behind her and stretched her arms slowly, tilted her head back, feeling the ache of the past few days’ combat deep in her neck and shoulders.

She bent and picked up a dry linen shift from the ground and pulled it over her head, fighting for a couple of seconds to find the holes of the sleeves before tugging it down over still-damp skin, the fabric clinging around her thighs.

Over the rush of the river she heard a branch snap and she turned her head sharply toward the sound, the cold forgotten as blood rushed to her cheeks.

Alistair stood slack-jawed for a second before averting his gaze, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck with one hand.

Zevran made no such attempt at chivalry, grinning widely as he cocked an eyebrow at her.

Maker, how much did they see?

The elf’s hands went to work loosening the straps on his armour, sauntering towards the river. “Come Alistair, we have our lovely leader at a disadvantage!” he sang, divesting himself of his boots. “It is hardly fair that she does not enjoy the same delicious sight, no?”

Lianna scowled and grabbed her travel-stained leathers to her chest, painfully aware of how little the damp linen of her shift helped to cover her body from view. She ignored Zevran and stalked past Alistair, still studiously focused on a patch of ground although the rounded tops of his ears were flushed a deep red.

She heard a splashing behind her and a “whoop!” as Zevran, presumably naked, plunged into the frigid water. The thought was almost enough to distract her from her embarrassment and fury. Almost.

She crashed through the undergrowth back to camp, her usual graceful stealth abandoned. How the _fuck_ did she not hear them coming? Alistair, at least, moved with all the subtlety of an ox. A well muscled, awkward, oddly charming ox. _Stop that!_

She glared at Morrigan, who sat propped against a tree on the camp outskirts.

“What the _fuck_ , Morrigan? You were supposed to keep watch!”

The apostate smirked and examined her fingernails. “I made no such promise.”

“Oh, for fuck’s -” She took a deep breath and strode off towards the tents. “Witch,” she muttered. She heard Morrigan’s tinkling laugh and clutched her fists tighter in the bundle of leathers.

She ignored the others’ questioning looks as she ducked into her tent, throwing her filthy leathers into the corner before jerking the laces on the tent flaps shut. She threw herself on her bedroll, angrily digging the palms of her hands into her eyes.

She settled on steadying her breathing, still feeling the blush spreading across her cheeks and to the tips of her pointed ears.

Her embarrassment did not abate when she thought of Alistair’s reaction. Oh sweet Maker, for him of all people to have seen her like that! She wondered if he'd ever seen a woman naked. Somehow the thought made her skin tingle, and she squirmed on the thin mattress, swearing softly under her breath.

 

Thoughts of Alistair caused her no small amount of confusion. At first her distaste had been clear to her. She had been forced to flee Denerim in the company of yet another shem, as if she hadn't had enough of their brutish kind on that terrible day. She had lain awake and tense at nights on the road to Ostagar, dagger gripped in her hand, ready to slice Duncan from throat to belly if he tried anything untoward. He seemed dignified, polite, even kind, but he was still a human man, and in her experience they were little better than wild animals. If she did sleep it was to enter a shifting sea of cruel eyes and crueler hands, gauntleted fists crashing into her, open throats and blood spraying on flagstones, blood splashing hot on her face, sticky blood coating her hands, oh Maker, so much blood….she would awake with a shudder, dagger still gripped in her hand.

And in Ostagar, to find herself surrounded by more shems, Daveth with his leers and Alistair and Jory with their noble accents, what seemed to her a casual arrogance born of entitlement. She was no stranger to these sons of privilege, their easy assumption that anything within their grasp was theirs for the taking. Even Alistair’s self-deprecating ramblings seemed a ploy to get her guard down, and she responded by building her invisible walls higher and stronger, sharp and impregnable.

Then Ostagar had ended in another onslaught of blood and violence, her nightmares now joined by twisted, stinking darkspawn, an ogre in the shape of Vaughan holding her powerless in its massive hands,  the sneering face of Teyrn Loghain crouching over Shianni’s bruised and violated body.

She was ashamed to recall a moment outside Lothering where Alistair, sweet, unassuming Alistair, had taken hold of her arm to help her up a steep embankment and she had recoiled from him as if scalded. Her stomach had twisted with nausea and all she could think of was Vaughan’s fingers digging into her arm, his pale eyes and cruel mouth as he pressed himself against her, wine-soaked breath hot on her face. She had ignored the hurt and confusion on Alistair’s handsome face, clambering up the slope and rolling her shoulders as if shrugging off his touch.

 

Here and now as their incongruous group headed toward the Brecilian Forest, she had a new kind of shame to contend with. Dark had fallen outside the tent. The fire in her face rekindled as she heard the murmur of voices around the campfire, dread settling in her belly as she imagined the turn of conversation. Oghren would be unbearable after this, even more so than usual. She could only feel some gratitude that the lecherous dwarf hadn't been with them, as if Zevran’s unabashed smirk hadn't been enough to bear!

Her thoughts drifted to the elven assassin. Now there was another problem, entirely different but maybe more urgent. She had come to accept that Alistair meant her no harm, but Zevran had made no secret of the fact that he'd been hired to kill them - he had, indeed, tried and failed to do just that.

But there was something in his appraising stares, his open (at times, too open) admiration, that awoke uncomfortable feelings in her, a stirring between her legs when he pressed his lips to the back of her hand that had her cursing her body for its easy betrayal.

Would he betray her as readily, she wondered?

 

Camp was silent now. She could not remember who was on watch, just happy it wasn't her so she could hide in here from her companions. She heard Blade sniff at the door of her tent, scratch at the canvas before wandering off. Right now, she couldn't even look the Mabari in the face.

She felt an unwelcome pang of regret that Alistair had looked away so readily. But who knew for how long they had been standing there? Had he watched her ease the shift over her breasts, her hips? Had he seen her wring the water from her coppery hair, her hands running over her slight, freckled body, her slow stretch, head thrown back, pale breasts exposed in the twilight?

In the dark of the tent it was all too simple to conjure his brown eyes, his easy smile, his broad shoulders and the skin of his neck in the glow of the campfire, begging for trailing fingers and exploring lips...Maker's balls, that stupid shem was disarming.

_Disarmed is the last thing you need to be right now._

His features which at first had seemed so coarse, so _human,_ now set a glow deep within her. She imagined his broad, calloused hands cupping her face, trailing down her neck, splayed across her naked chest.

With a sigh she took the neck of her shift between her fingers, eased it over one shoulder until her right breast was bare to the chill night air. She imagined the touch was not her own as she stroked the chilled flesh with her fingers, then ran her free hand down beneath her shift to rest between her legs. She ran a finger slowly upwards and failed to stifle a moan as it slid wetly along the sensitive skin. She circled her entrance tentatively, imagined a single broad finger slipping inside her, gently probing her.

“Alistair…” she murmured. She curled a finger inside her, let out a gasp as her body responded.

And Zevran…Zevran with his knowing smirk, his long list of conquests, his air of danger. She imagined Zevran’s fingers would be deft and clever, practiced in all sorts of arts. She pressed a second finger inside her, arching her hips into her hand, and tasted the name on her lips.

“Zevran…”

“You called, my lady?”

Her eyes shot open and she froze, scarcely daring to breathe. Her left hand flew to the dagger at her side.

He was crouched in the tent opening, motionless. The thick canvas blocked the moonlight and the fire’s glow behind him made it impossible to see his face, but she could picture his insufferable smirk.

She willed herself to breathe, although her breathing sounded ragged and unnatural in her ears. He couldn't see any better than she in the darkness, but her exposed breast and the hand still clutched between her legs left her feeling a hundred times more naked than she had by the river.

“Are you alright, my Warden? I heard...a noise.”

She despised the shake in her voice as she answered. “I'm fine. I had a - a bad dream.”

“Oh, a bad dream?” She heard the smile in his voice. As he spoke she surreptitiously withdrew her fingers from herself, resting her shaking hand on the bedroll. Her movements felt clumsy, every sound amplified in the still air of the tent. Could he tell what she was doing? Surely he couldn't, but she felt as if his eyes must be able to penetrate the darkness, expose her shameful weakness.

He hadn't moved. “Is there anything I can do to...help?” He shifted in his crouch and she was acutely aware of his hand splayed on her bedroll, fingers resting inches from her exposed thigh. Andraste’s tits, how did he untie the tent flaps without her noticing? Had she been so loud?

The more she tried to keep her breathing steady, the more she felt her arousal was obvious. What had he heard? It didn't matter - the thought of his whispered name was enough to make her wish the earth would swallow them both.

He sighed, shifted as if to withdraw from the tent.

“Wait.” It was hoarse, no more than a cracked whisper.

 _What the fuck are you doing?_ she thought to herself as she moved her naked leg towards him, nudging her outer thigh against his fingers.

“Ah,” was all he said, letting the tent flaps fall closed behind him. He rested next to her on one hip, and she felt her body twitch towards his touch as his hand brushed over her clothed torso. He chuckled lightly in appreciation as his fingers found her exposed breast, and his lips pressed gently against her mouth as he ran a thumb over her hard nipple. Her lips parted under the flick of his tongue and his clever assassin's fingers teased at her flesh. She gasped as his mouth left hers to latch on to her breast, lips and tongue drawing tiny moans from her as she arched her back towards his seeking mouth.

“Relax, my Warden.” He slid down her body, caught the hem of her shift and pushed it slowly up. She raised her hips to free its passage up to her waist, then over her body until the thin fabric was bunched up around her armpits. He ran his hands down her skin, circling, soothing, noting which touches made her twitch and shiver.

Finally one hand curled around her thigh, drawing her knee up ever so slightly. She felt naked, vulnerable, completely at his mercy. Her lip twitched in a dark smile as she wondered if this was a last attempt on her life, imagining the indignity of her dead body lying there with thighs parted, shift pushed up to her neck, throat slit ear to ear.

Then all thought fled as his hand ran down her belly, his palm resting against her sex, gently pressing and relaxing.

Her breath came in shallow gasps, even as he parted her thighs further and pressed his full lips to her damp opening. Her hips bucked, and he flicked his tongue against her, still rubbing his palm softly against the curling hair between her legs.

Shifting on his knees, he slid both hands under the small of her back and angled her hips toward him, running the flat of his tongue along her entrance, then twirling it softly like a kiss inside her. She twisted under him, pressed an arm across her face to stifle her desperate moans.

Now he lowered her to the ground and his hands worked on her breasts, his body shifting back and forth as his mouth drove against her, waves of want running through her, building to a throbbing tension between her thighs. She wrapped shaking legs around his shoulders, small, animal cries escaping the back of her throat.

He settled into a hypnotic rhythm, his thumbs tracing reassuring circles against her hips as his tongue and lips roamed over her skin, exploring her wet, warm centre, tongue darting and skirting around the too-sensitive bump above her slick entrance. Her heels dug into his back and although her mouth was covered, she couldn't stop soft moans and whines escaping her throat. She pushed herself up on one elbow and threw her head back, gripping a fold of her sleeve between clenched teeth, body writhing beneath his clever mouth even as his hands kept her hips anchored.

“Zevran," she murmured into her arm. “Zevran…please...oh, please...” He gripped her hip tighter, closed his lips softly around the bud of flesh and sucked gently, his other hand finding the opening between her thighs and sliding two fingers smoothly in and out, building in pace until she clenched around him.

All shame and self-consciousness was forgotten as she came undone, shuddering, mouth open in a silent scream as her body seemed to lose purchase on the world, wracked by waves of release.

He slowed, softened, placed a damp kiss on the inside of her thigh before withdrawing. She lay spent, feeling her heart jumping and kicking against her ribcage. Her limbs were limp and heavy and her head swam.

As if from a great distance she felt warm fingers pulling her shift down to cover her, tucking soft blankets around her body.

“Wait,” she said, stirring weakly. “What about you?”

He laughed, low and throaty. “Do not fear, I'm very capable of looking after myself.” He smoothed the hair back from her damp forehead and placed a soft kiss on her temple. “But if you should feel a need again, my dear Warden, do come and find me.”

Before she sank into a dreamless sleep she heard his quiet chuckle. “Ha! Alistair.” And he slipped noiselessly from the tent.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Lianna heard the camp stir to life around her and refused to open her eyes. Oh, Maker. Had that really happened? It had, all of it. She couldn't face them. She had to. What if he'd already bragged about what they did last night, what she let him do? Or if he waited for her appearance to make some joke at her expense, how should she react?

When she finally emerged her armour was meticulously neat and her hair was freshly brushed and braided, beyond reproach.

“Look, Lianna…” Alistair couldn't meet her eyes. “About last night.”

She'd kill him. Cocky, smug elf, she should never have spared his life.

“I just wanted to say sorry. I mean it was an accident, we didn't mean to sneak up on you. But still. Sorry.”

“Oh.” She'd all but forgotten the incident by the river, and now her face burned all over again. “No hard feelings, really.”

“Really? Because you seemed pretty furious.”

“What if we agree never to speak of it again, and we'll call it even?”

He grinned, relieved. “Let's do that. I mean, I was going to say you could see me naked, but yours is a much better idea.”

Now it was awkward. They drifted apart, mumbling excuses about tents to pack and breakfast to eat.

Zevran. His back was to her, fiddling with his pack. She debated the wisdom of running away and never coming back.

Then he turned and saw her. Smiled a smile that was no more lascivious than usual, said good morning and turned back to packing.

Wait,  _ had _ she dreamt it?

 

They trudged onwards in search of the Dalish camp. She found herself falling into step beside Zevran.

“Did you sleep well, my warden?”

“Did I…? Um.” Was it healthy for a person to blush so much? “I did. Thank you.” Wait. Fuck. “For asking,” she finished lamely.

“I am glad to hear it.” 

She waited for a smart remark or a double entendre but they walked on in silence. Finally she asked, “So you didn't tell anyone?”

“No,” he answered. “Did you?”

“No! Maker, no.”

The elf smiled. “That is a most emphatic no.”

“I mean - not that I'm ashamed or anything. I mean, I am, but...fuck.” She scowled. “It's just nobody's business.”

“Ah.” He looked ahead to the odd procession of their companions. “On this much, we are agreed.”

“Oh, good.” Maker, but he was lovely. She glanced away before he caught her watching. “Thank you.”

“Thank you, my warden.” Before she could object, he seized her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of her glove. “My offer stands, by the way.” He threw her a roguish grin and walked ahead, leaving her uncomfortably flustered.

 

“How hard can it be to find a Dalish clan in the forest?” Alistair complained.

“They're wanderers, Alistair.” Lianna shrugged. “They wander.”

“I wish they'd wander a bit closer to where we're wandering.” He scratched his head. “Wow, that was really hard to say.”

“My sincerest congratulations on mastering the power of speech, Alistair.” Morrigan looked around her in distaste. “Is there no end to these trees?”

“I think they keep going up to the edge of the  forest . That's what makes it a _forest_.” Lianna hadn't forgiven her yet. “I'm going to fill the waterskins.”

“I will help,” offered Zevran.

“Oh.” It was true that she would need help carrying them all. She had no reason at all to refuse his help. And now the others were looking at her strangely. “Thanks,” she said brightly. “Let's go, then.”

Neither of them were Dalish, but the two elven rogues made little sound as they slipped through the forest until finally Zevran broke the silence.

“I make you uneasy.”

“No,” she said automatically, then reluctantly, “Yes.”

“Why?” The path hadn't taken them very far from the water. Already she heard the rush of the current ahead.

“I…” She couldn't articulate her feelings, not in a way that wouldn't embarrass her further. "You  _ did _ try to assassinate me.”

“So you are afraid I will try to kill you?”

“No.” She stopped to look at him and realised it was the truth. He'd had many opportunities. It was true that he'd told her more than one story of times he'd bedded a target before killing them, but he was playing a long game indeed if that was his plan.

“Well, then?” He raised an eyebrow. 

“Let's just get the water.”

“Lianna.” She wasn't certain she'd ever heard him say her name, and it sent a thrill through her to hear it on his lips. He smiled, as always, but his voice was sincere. “I would never touch you against your wishes. I want this to be absolutely clear.”

“I didn't think…” But she did. The memory was still too raw. Her  voice came out hoarse. “If I wanted you to stop…”

“You would need but to say the word.”

Was she a fool for believing him? If she believed him, why was she still afraid?

Because when he'd offered, she'd reached for him. When he'd touched her, her body had responded in ways she couldn't control. What scared her more than the thought that he might not stop, was the feeling that she might not ask him to. And what then?

Zevran turned to the river. “The water, then.”

“It can wait.” 

The empty waterskins fell from her hands as his fingers tangled in her hair, his mouth warm and soft on hers. That questing tongue again parting her lips, and there was a shiver between her legs at the memory of him there, teasing her folds like he now teased her tongue, making her moan into his kiss.

He laughed softly. “Oh, my Warden. So hungry.”

What would they say back home if they could see her now? At least he was an elf. An elf kissing her neck with practiced skill, and her body hummed like a bowstring released under his touch.

“We should…” she gasped. “They'll wonder what we're doing.”

“Mmm, do you think so? I rather like that idea.” To his credit, he released her.

Her fellow elf fell in behind her as they followed an animal trail down to the grassy verge. Lianna cursed her unsteady legs, and cursed Zevran for the smirk that told her he'd noticed. 

Insufferable. But when his fingers brushed hers as he passed her a waterskin, a warm flood ran through her with enough force that she had to bite her lip to keep from gasping.

The river felt cold even through her thin leather gloves - perhaps she could calm her flaming skin by dunking herself in the current. “Such a marvellous view,” mused Zevran as she bent to the water, and when she looked at him in suspicion he grinned. “The river is quite lovely, also.”

“You're impossible.” A cold dip would do him some good, too.

They were almost back to camp when she paused. She couldn't do it, she couldn't walk back amongst her companions with her skin trying to crawl off her body, with that growing ache between her legs. She needed...she didn't know what, she just needed. 

He looked back questioningly and her eyes stayed fixed on his as she lowered the waterskins slowly, deliberately, to the forest floor.

Off the path was a hollow tree charred black by some long-ago fire. Here he pulled her hips tight against his and his breath was hot in her ear.

“Ask, my warden, and I will take my time with you.” She smelled the forest scents of soil and damp leaves, the hint of spice and woodsmoke on his skin. The leather of his gloves, as he pulled one free between his teeth and tucked it away in his belt. “If you wish it, I will taste every inch of you and bring you undone. I will worship you with my body for hours at a time.” His bare hand slid beneath her tunic and rested at the ties of her leggings. “For now we have but a minute. Shall I make it count?”

“Yes,” she whispered, and the ties were pulled free. “Yes,” and his fingers slid inside her smallclothes, deeper until she whimpered and dug shaking fingers into his shoulders.

His fingers were as quick and deft as she imagined. So still and quiet, this part of the forest, and her ragged breath sounded unnaturally loud in the hollow space. Tremors ran through her as his clever fingers danced in untouched places.

“Let go, my warden,” and she came with a harsh cry. “Yes,” he murmured, lips still pressed to her ear. “Beautiful.”

“Thank you.” She wasn't sure it was the right response but in this moment, weak-kneed and clutching his shoulders to keep from sliding to the ground, it was all her mind could conjure.

“You have given me all the thanks I need.” Zevran smiled and wiped his damp fingers on her smallclothes. “For now.”


	3. Chapter 3

She came awake from another dream in which she fought Vaughan but her daggers seemed to pass through him. He bled from a thousand cuts but still he advanced, and when he caught her he'd tear her in two, he'd violate her in the most unspeakable ways and fight as she would she could only delay him.

If these were her dreams, what were Shianni’s like? Did she wake like this in a cold sweat? Or worse, screaming?

 _The streets will run red with elven blood._ Please, please, let them be safe. Let them not have paid for her deeds.

There'd be no sleep again tonight. Someone would be on watch, she may as well get up and join them. Unsure where she'd abandoned her various garments the night before she settled on a blanket over her shoulders and crawled out of the tent in nothing more than that and her shift.

Impossible to gauge what time it was. There was the fire, burned down to little more than embers and encircled by a scattered ring of tents. There was a glow behind the canvas, faintly illuminating the tent to her left. _His_ tent.

Lianna pulled the blanket tight around her, suddenly all too aware of her state of near undress. _If you ever feel a need, my warden._ Recalling his words she did feel a need, a savage, restless need. To be held, to be kissed, to come undone under his touch and forget all she'd seen, all she'd done, all that was and would be.

Kneeling on the ground by the tent opening, she paused. Why would he have a lantern burning, in his tent alone? If not alone then who...Leliana? He made no secret of his admiration for her. But then he flirted openly with almost everyone, even Alistair.

At that thought, such images flooded into her head that she blushed from head to toe. Alistair’s big hands threaded in Zevran’s hair, kissing him hard enough to bruise, smooth and stubbled cheeks scraping together. Zevran’s hand on his -

“Are you not cold out there, dear warden?” The flap pulled aside and she nearly flinched from the soft lamplight, afraid that it might illuminate her thoughts. “And now I am cold. Come in quickly, if you will.”

She slipped in silently and was flustered all over again to find him naked to the waist. His skin shone even more golden than usual in the lamp’s glow and the black tattoos swirling over his body were darker than the night itself in contrast.

“I do have them everywhere.” He smirked and leaned back on his elbows, languid as a cat.

“I wasn't asking.” She knelt and drew the blanket around her like armour, glaring at him when he laughed.

“Oh, but you were.”

“Why are you awake?” If she focused on the flickering lamp she couldn't follow those swirls of ink to where they vanished beneath his waistband.

“It is just past the change of watch.” Muscles coiled and stretched as he rubbed at a tight spot on his neck. “I was the one watching.” _Watching,_ he said, and his golden eyes lingered on the dark space between her breasts, then the pale skin of her calf exposed by the blanket's folds. “And you, my Lianna? What brings you to hover outside my tent at this hour?”

“I had a dream,” she muttered.

“Oh?” That insufferable smirk, an eyebrow raised. “Another dream?”

“It really was, this - “ Shit. His lips curled and so did something in the pit of her belly.

“So, this dream.” When he sat up there was a tension in him, a wolf poised to leap. “Was I in your dream? Were we, by any chance, naked?”

“No.”

Hearing the broken note in her voice his smile faded. “My poor warden.” The back of his hand brushed her cheek as he tucked the hair back from her face. “Such a beautiful woman should not look so troubled.”

Her laugh was short and bitter. “Find me a person in Thedas who's not troubled right now.”

“No,” and his thumb traced her lower lip, “your trouble runs deeper than the Blight, I think.”

“I didn't come here to talk about my troubles.” His hand brushed her shoulder and she let the blanket fall. “I didn't come to talk.”

“Very well.” Blanket discarded, he drew her against his chest and kissed her thoroughly. The dream was already half-forgotten in the warmth of his body through her thin shift and the slow sweep of his hands up her thighs.

“Zevran…” The soft draw of his lips on her throat made her pulse flutter. “The light.”

“Let me see you,” he whispered, fingers tugging at the hem of her shift.

“I - “Her hands closed over his and she drew back to look in his face. “You first.”

He chuckled approvingly. “Saucy little minx.” She glanced away as he unlaced his ties and wriggled out of his breeches.

“Ah.” His fingertips brushed the outside of her knee. “So brazen just a moment ago, and now so shy.” He tilted her chin around to face him.

Oh Maker, they _did_ go everywhere. Over his thighs like the rake of claws, swirling around his hips, accentuating the proud jut of his cock.

“I've never - “ She cleared her throat, suddenly dry. “I mean I haven't ever…”

There was confusion on his face before comprehension dawned. “Never?” He sat up, incredulous. “Have they not eyes, in this alienage of yours? Such a beauty as yourself!”

“They have eyes.” Embarrassed, she looked away again. “But go back far enough and you're related to almost everyone. It's why we have to bring in - “

Nelaros. He didn't even know her, and the attempt to rescue her had cost him his life. He'd have been her first, in another life. “Anyway. Never.”

Lianna shivered as he drew her hair back to bare her neck. “You mean to say nobody has ever tried to taste this silken skin?”

Her eyes drifted shut. She could forgive him the flowery Antivan turn of phrase, if only he would keep touching her like that. “Oh, they tried.”

“No doubt you withered them with your scorn.”

“Not quite. I cut their throats and watched them bleed out on the floor.”

There was silence, and her eyes opened to find him looking at her with surprise and fascination.

“There is a story there.”

“Not one I'm going to tell you.”

Emboldened, she drew the shift up and over her head. She was completely naked now and for once Zevran had nothing to say.

He reached out to lift her long hair behind her shoulders, baring her further to his heavy-lidded gaze. 

“I am not worthy of this,” he murmured.

“Zevran…” His eyes lingered on her breasts, nipples hard and peaked in the cold air.

“Yes, my goddess?”

“It's freezing.”

He laughed and drew her down with him in a fluid movement, reaching back to throw the blankets over them. “Will you let me warm you?”

"Please.”

Zevran drew her close until his warm skin pressed against hers and kissed her with gentle urgency. A weapon-calloused hand ran first her down her spine, then along her side and hip. Long, slow strokes like petting a cat, and like a cat she arched into his touch, almost purring.

Slow strokes too, of his tongue in her mouth, matching pace with the caress of his hand. Then hot open-mouthed kisses on her neck, trailing down until his head vanished beneath the blankets and she moaned when his mouth closed warm over her breast.

He lingered there until it almost became too much. His hands kneading her pebbled flesh, the drag of his tongue and teeth against her nipples just shy of pain. The steady draw of his lips and tongue that made her hips jerk against him, encountering the bump of his cock against her thigh.

She hadn't wanted to marry Nelaros. Perhaps given time to know him first she might have thought differently, but the marriage struck her as too much like a transaction. Love, then marriage was how it should happen, not bedding someone mere hours after you met. So much she would never have the chance to find out about him. Was he a virgin too? Would he have touched her with such practiced skill, on the narrow bed in her father's house while Cyrion stayed elsewhere for the night? Or would they both have been fumbling and awkward, laughing and apologising...she would never know.

Thoughts that fled when Zevran lifted her knee and nuzzled between her thighs.

One arm wrapped around his pillow, pressing it to her face to stifle her cries. The other hand threaded in his hair, such fine, soft hair, such delicate, feather-light strokes of his tongue against her wet folds. Her back bowed with the obscene pleasure of it. Breath coming in tiny ragged gasps now and it was almost a whisper when she choked out “Stop.”

At once he withdrew and her body ached at the loss. There was a commotion under the blankets until his head emerged, tousled and confused. “Is there something wrong?”

All she knew was that the building pressure in her was close to exploding, and she didn't want that yet. She wasn't ready for warm, sleepy relief; she wanted him, all of him.

“Kiss me,” she whispered, and his tongue tasted strange on hers. He was lying above her now, weight resting on one elbow and a warm hand just under the curve of her breast. She arched slowly into his touch, needing more.

“You are certain, my Warden?” She answered by wrapping her legs around his, feet hooking on his calves. His cock was trapped between their bellies and she whimpered in frustration.

“Shhh, my lady,” he murmured. “I will take care of everything.” Drawing back, he took himself in hand and his tip pressed warm against her lips. He slid gently against her entrance, just touching until she canted her hips in a desperate effort to take him deeper.

The first time was terrible, Shianni had said, but Shianni's first time and the subsequent few had been with a fumbling alienage boy, rushed and furtive in his parents’ house.

When he finally entered her the expected pain didn't come, just a feeling of fullness, of her body stretching and readjusting around him. He moved then, and she released her held breath in a low moan.

Shianni, too, hadn't had the steady pressure of Zevran’s hand between her legs, the heel of it rubbing in time with his careful thrusts, fingers of his other hand running slow circles on her thigh. She thought she could drift like this forever, lost in spreading waves of pleasure.

"Let go, my warden," he said again, and each roll of his hips brought her closer to the edge until she shattered, pulsing and fluttering around him, her nails digging hard into his back. Too much, she would die from the jerk of his cock inside her, the movement of his hand growing erratic against her passion-slicked skin, a second orgasm stampeding over the first and leaving her limp and gasping for air.

He swore softly in Antivan and withdrew, reaching for his soiled undershirt and giving himself a few quick strokes before he shuddered and spilled into the fabric.

“Did I...oh.” Frightened that she'd done something wrong, it finally occurred to her that what they had just done was traditionally dedicated to making babies. She blessed him for his forethought even as the intimacy made her blush, the sight of his hand on his cock still slick from her body.

Blond hair tickled her face as he bent to kiss her forehead. “Are you well, my warden?”

She stretched, already sleepy. “Very.” A thought occurred to her, unwelcome as she lay snug beneath the blanket. “Should I leave?”

Golden eyes went wide in dismay. “I would prefer you did not.” He slipped back under the blanket and pressed warm against her back, landing tiny kisses on her neck. “It is, as you say, freezing.”

 _People will talk,_ she thought, but the words didn't make it past her lips as she fell into oblivious sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

The Dalish had given them some small provisions in thanks for their help, but the journey from the forest would take several days yet. Hunting was necessary to sustain them, so what could be more natural than two elves skilled in archery taking to the forest for a few hours?

As long as nobody stumbled across them now. It would be hard to explain what part of hunting necessitated her being pinned against a tree, her smallclothes bunched up and discarded and two - now three - of Zevran’s fingers pushing between her legs.

“Always so ready for me, my warden.” His fingers curled inside her and a small whine escaped the back of her throat. “So beautifully wet.”

The tree was rough at her back, she could feel it in the way loose strands of her hair snagged on the bark when she tilted her neck to make way for his lips. 

Unwise, this was so unwise. If they knew they would all think her mad or at least wanton, and Maker help her she was wanton when she caught that look in his eye, the one that spoke of stolen kisses and exploring fingers and the breathless tangle of limbs. She wasn't even sure of her feelings for him. But there was no doubting his body pressed hard against hers, the practiced stroke of his fingers making her eyes flutter shut.

“You like this?” A slick thumb circled her skin and she sighed.

“Yes, oh yes.”

He chuckled. “How very Dalish, two elves fucking in the woods.” A sharp upward thrust of his wrist made her cry out in shocked pleasure. “Shall I fuck you now?”

Lost to words, she nodded.

“Hmm. Not enough, I think.” His tongue pushed into her mouth, matching the languid rhythm of his fingers. When he broke away she was gasping. “I would like to hear you. Say my name.”

“Zevran.” It was a hoarse, ragged plea.

“What, Zevran?” That cocky glint in his eye. She'd like to deny him just for spite, but the need in her overrode every rational impulse.

“Fuck me Zevran. Please.”

There was triumph in his grin. “As you wish.” She gasped as he hooked his elbow under her knee and drew it up to her waist, cried aloud as he thrust into her.

“This is what you want?” A buck of his hips, hitting a spot that made her eyes roll back.

“Fuck. Yes, that. Please.” Her hand blindly sought contact, gripping his shoulder with white-knuckled intensity. “Harder, Maker, please…”

He needed no more encouragement to set a relentless, pounding rhythm. Skittish animals rustled in the undergrowth as her cries grew louder, until she feared someone would hear and come running to her rescue. “Must I gag you, my warden?” His voice was low and savage and his hand was not gentle, pressing over her mouth to capture her voice as it rose to a scream. “Yes,” he purred into her ear. “Just like that.” 

After, she rested breathless against the rough bark as he righted himself. “You are magnificent,” he murmured, brushing the hair back from her face. “I am very happy that I did not kill you.”

“You nearly did, just now.” She reached to retrieve her smalls from the clump of wildflowers in which they had landed.

“Ah, no.” His kiss this time was lingering and languid. “You are made of sterner stuff than that.” Combat-calloused fingers ran down her neck. “I, on the other hand, may yet die of you.”

“Mmm.” Her eyes drifted closed. “No more of that, or we’ll never catch dinner and we’ll have some explaining to do back in camp.”

“Tell them the body has more needs than simple hunger.” He suckled on the soft skin of her throat and she had to push him away before he left a mark.

“I’d rather Morrigan didn’t set me on fire, thanks.” Poor choice of words - she stopped his mouth with a hard kiss before he could make another innuendo. “That was...thank you.”

“It was my pleasure. In a very literal sense.” He winked and shouldered his quiver. “After you, my lady.”

“You first, assassin,” she said with a nod at his bow.

He clapped a hand to his chest in mock anguish. “One time, I try to kill you. You are a hard and unforgiving woman.”

“I just like the view better from behind you.” The grin that answered hers made warmth pool in her belly.

“An elf after my own heart.” He couldn’t resist pressing a kiss to the back of her glove. “Let us hunt then, my warden.”

 

They sat apart as the rabbits cooked over the fire, the hunting trip having been successful in more ways than one. Lianna stretched her legs out before her and rolled her neck languidly from side to side.

“You're different.” She opened her eyes to find Alistair watching her curiously.

“Different to what?”

He looked down, embarrassed. “Just...different somehow. You've changed.”

Suddenly feeling too warm, she drew her legs back from the fire. “Better, or worse?” If he was bringing this up, at least he it meant he hadn't seen or heard anything untoward. She knew he'd be too shy to mention it if he suspected what she and Zevran were really up to.

He shrugged. “Just different.”

Maker. All the sneaking around, all the kisses and touches and muffled cries of passion and she wanted Alistair no less than before. He'd be horrified if he knew what she let the assassin do to her in the darkness of his tent or their stolen moments away from camp.

It was too much, Alistair next to her and Zevran catching her eye from across the fire with a too-knowing smirk. Damn him, he knew how she felt and he enjoyed it.

He waylaid her after dinner and his warm breath against her ear sent a white-hot ripple of lust through her body. “Your tent or mine?” She schooled her face into a perfectly blank expression, until he added, “You can call me Alistair, if you prefer.”

“Fuck you, Zevran,” she hissed, and he gave her a self-satisfied smile.

“Your tent, then. Expect me.”

Her eyes met Alistair’s and he looked quickly away, his mouth drawn in a flat line of unhappiness.

 

“Do you think they know?” Her nipples brushed Zevran’s chest as she bent to whisper in his ear, and he groaned softly.

“It is the furthest thing from my mind right now.” His hips bucked up against her and she buried a sharp cry in the hollow of his neck. In retaliation she took his golden skin between her teeth and he answered with a rake of fingernails down her bare back.

“You,” she growled. A clench of her thighs distracted him enough to grab his arms and pin both wrists above his head, rocking her hips hard against him and making him hiss.

“You will pay for that, warden.” Another clench of her muscles and he threw his head back, releasing a string of Antivan curses through gritted teeth.

“Oh yeah?” She tasted the salt tang of sweat as she dragged her tongue up the column of his throat. “Pay how?”

In an instant his feet hooked around the backs of her legs and she found herself rolled and pinned beneath him, his elbows trapping her arms even as she kept a strong grip on his wrists. He stayed sheathed inside her, grinning wolfishly as his sharp thrusts tore tiny cries from the back of her throat.

“I think they suspect.” He bent to take her nipple between sharp teeth, soothing it an instant later with a swipe of his tongue. “Shall we confirm it for them?”

“No - ah!” His next thrust pushed her inches up the bedroll. “Can't,” she gasped. “Not yet.”

“A shame,” he murmured, slipping from between her thighs. “I should like to hear you scream.” Deftly he flipped her onto her stomach and pushed back between her folds. He fucked her into the ground as she stifled her increasingly desperate moans with her pillow, her treacherous mind imagining a heavier weight pinning her down, bigger hands grabbing her hips as they ground back against him.

“There is no shame in desiring more than one person,” Zevran murmured later in the darkness of the tent. She stiffened and he ran a soothing hand down her hip. “He wants you, too.”

“I don't know what you mean,” she muttered.

“I think you do.” He turned her face to his. “You and your fellow warden would make a handsome couple, I think. I would like to see it.”

“You're disgusting.” But even as she said the words she felt a surge of dampness between her legs, and she guided his fingers into her warmth.

“Mmm, you think so?” He was already sliding down beneath the blanket. “Let me show you how right you are.”

Was it wrong, she wondered as his tongue curled inside her, to want all this and more? She closed her eyes and imagined all the ways she could bring a smile back to Alistair’s sad face.


	5. Chapter 5

Alistair raised a quizzical eyebrow. “No Zevran?”

Lianna wasn't in the mood to discuss Zevran right now. His friend's death had left him in a strange mood, alternately glib and sad and entirely unwilling to talk to her about it. He'd decided to stay on for the moment, but he didn't seem to want to be around her and she wasn't about to chase him. And the earring - what the  _fuck_ was that with the earring? “We're not joined at the hip, you know.”

“No, I imagine you join in entirely different places.”

“Shut the fuck up, Morrigan.” Now was not the time for the witch to test their uneasy friendship. “We have enough people. Let's go rescue the queen, or get killed, or whatever stupid thing we're doing today.”

To Howe’s estate. No need to tell them she'd been there before.

 

The guard uniform was heavier than she was used to and the tunic bunched under her arms. That was what she focused on, not searching the stone floor for bloodstains.

_That's what happens when you teach whores a lesson._

There in the mess hall, Nelaros had been cut down by the Arl’s guards. His body had still been warm when she found the wedding ring. She'd jammed it on her finger for safekeeping, not because she'd wanted it but because she couldn't bear the thought of the shems getting their grasping hands on it.

Last time she was here she'd thrown open every door in search of her cousin, her rage only growing with each wave of guards they were forced to cut down.

How had the city guard captain put it?  _The Arl’s son lies dead in a river of blood that runs through the palace._ She allowed herself a grim smile behind her helmet.

 

“This way.” She led them down the corridor towards the Arl’s private chambers.

“How do you know?” Alistair asked, but she was silent until they reached the foyer and she tugged her helmet off.

“I can't breathe in this fucking thing.”

“You look terrible,” Leliana said, her face writ with concern. “Is something wrong?”

The last time she had pushed open that door...it didn't matter. Vaughan wasn't here. _Such a well-formed little thing._ She should have killed him then.

There, the last of them had been hunched over Shianni's unmoving body, rutting into her like an animal. Hard to tell if her split lip and bruised cheek had been a sign that she'd struggled, or just part of their fun. All three of them drunk, sweaty and flushed with their fine clothes in disarray, and her cousin, the strongest person she knew, frozen and dead-eyed on the floor.

_You think the city will care that I used an animal in the way it was meant to be used?_

“I should have killed him earlier.” Was that blood, that dark stain on the flagstones? Vaughan’s blood, running from his neck and staining his surcoat. “I should never have let them leave the alienage.”

“Lianna?” Alistair touched her arm and she recoiled.

If she could kill them again she would. If she could kill them a thousand times…

“No more disguises,” she said flatly. “From here on, we kill anyone who tries to stop us. Got it?”

_You killed them, didn't you?_

_Like dogs, Shianni._

Lianna caught a glimpse of her reflection in Arl Howe’s ornate dressing mirror, skin pale and red hair wild about her face, her blue eyes fierce and cold.

_Like dogs._

 

Why did everything hurt? What was she doing on the floor? Panic flared as she realised her armour was missing. A face loomed over her and she shrieked and rolled away.

A weapon, shit, she needed a weapon. Scrabbling upright she felt the bite of cold iron bars at her back.

“You're awake!” She registered male features, a bare chested human. No! She'd die before she let them take her the way they'd taken Shianni.

“Don't fucking touch me, shem,” she spat. “I'll kill you.”

“Lianna?” Something in his voice...finally she looked at him properly.

“Alistair?” It was a cell. She was a prisoner, but so was he. More than that, he was her friend. Tears of shame pricked her eyes at his hurt expression. “How…?”

He misunderstood. “Howe's dead, remember? We killed him, right before they caught us.”

“No, that's not…” Gradually it came back. The Arl’s estate. Loghain's daughter. “The queen, is she…?”

“She got away. So did the others.” Alistair reached for her face and she flinched. “You got hit pretty hard. I wasn't sure…can I take a look?” His fingers moved gently over her scalp. “Does it hurt?”

“No,” she lied. The cell was barred on three sides and sealed with a massive oaken door, the fourth side a wall of solid and ancient-looking stone. “Where are we?”

“Fort Drakon.” He swallowed nervously. “It's where...well, we don't want to stay long if we can help it.”

After all their trials, Loghain finally had them. They'd die here, she realised numbly, but not before the shems had their fun. A traitor to the crown and a knife-eared whore, she'd be beyond lucky if they killed her quickly.

It wasn't fair, but when had life ever been fair? At least she wasn't alone, she thought, then felt guilty to be relieved that one of the men she loved was locked away with her.

“Alistair.” She reached up to touch his wrist, circling her thumb gently against his skin.

“Lianna?” He was so close, so warm and solid, and she could see her own hunger reflected in his eyes.

“Please,” she whispered. So long she'd hungered for him and she knew, she  _knew_ he felt the same.

“Is this the best time?” His voice was doubtful, but his hand moved to cup the back of her neck. “I don't - “

Whatever he was about to say next was lost when she kissed him, hard and desperate. After a moment's shock his lips started to move with hers, his fingers tangling gently in her hair. Stubble scraped against her face, an alien sensation after only ever kissing bare-faced elves.

“Wait,” he protested finally, reluctantly breaking away. “We can't.”

“We could be dead soon.” Lianna knelt up and wound her arms around his neck. “I don't want to die without this.”

“What about Zevran?”

“He won't miss me,” she said bitterly. “I was just a shield to him. He doesn't need me any more.”

“I don't think that's true,” Alistair murmured, but his hands slid up the small of her back.

“It doesn't matter.” How many times had she thought about dragging her lips over the warm skin of his neck? When she did, the reality was better than she ever imagined, his groan arousing her almost enough to forget the threat of impending torture. Being without him seemed torture enough. “This could be the last chance we have. You're here.” She straddled him, pressing her skin against his warm chest and feeling his eager response through the thin layers of fabric that separated them. “I just want you.”

“Lianna.” This time he kissed her, tentative at first then drawing her tongue into his mouth, groaning again when she rocked up against him and he felt her heat against his cock. “We can't, not here…”

"Here is where we are." Here with the smell of sweat and blood and death, she would take him inside her, ride his cock until screams of a different kind echoed off the stone walls. She took his hand and placed it on her frustratingly clothed breast, rubbing his thumb against her stiffening nipple. 

"The guards..."

"I don't care." 

"You deserve better."

“I'll take what I can get. It's enough.” But that wasn't true, she realised as she stroked the broad planes of his chest. She wanted more. She wanted privacy, and security, and the time to explore this new and raw thing between them without the thought of death hanging over their heads. She bit his lip gently and pulled back to look in his eyes, hooded with desire.

“Alistair.”

“Hmm?” His hands moved at her breasts and she fought the urge to just let him keep going, stay there and take what pleasure they could. But no, she had a better idea.

“We're going to live,” she whispered firmly, taking his face in her hands. “We're getting out of here. Now.” One final, dragging kiss. “And then we're going to talk about this some more.”

“That's worth living for, I guess.” He grinned, suddenly shy again. “Do you have a plan?”

“Always.”


	6. Chapter 6

“Lianna!” Zevran would have taken her in his arms, but the look in her eyes stopped him dead. “Are you hurt?”

“I'll live.” She did her best not to lean on Alistair as they climbed the stairs, Zevran following behind.

“You should have taken me with you.”

“You think that would have changed anything?” she snapped. “It wouldn't. Did the others make it back?”

“They did.” He hovered, uncharacteristically anxious. “We were about to go looking for you, but here…”

“Here we are.” It wasn't necessary to be so abrupt with him - it was her own guilt, she knew, that made her act this way. “Could you please find Wynne for us? I think I have a concussion.”

“Of course, my warden.”

Alistair caught her eye, his expression stricken. “Lianna…”

“Later.” She squeezed his hand. “We'll talk later, alright?”

 

What had seemed so clear in the face of death was muddled hopelessly, now that she was healed and clean and back in the safety of Eamon’s estate.

 _I just want you,_ she'd told Alistair, and in that moment she'd meant it. Zevran had been so infuriatingly distant, and Alistair so close and real, and the feelings she'd kept to herself for months had come boiling to the surface.

She knew she hadn't stopped wanting Zevran. Maker's balls, there were times when she even thought she could love him - but to what end? He asked nothing of her, and made her no promises. She'd helped him get free of the Crows and he'd actually tried to  _pay_ her. Why was she surprised? He'd all but told her love wasn’t part of the deal.

After Nelaros, she hadn't cried. Not after Shianni, not when she was exiled, not after Ostagar. To the void with Zevran, she wouldn't cry now for the lack of something he'd never offered.

There came a tentative knock on the door. Lianna quickly threw on a pair of woollen leggings under the linen shirt she already wore.

“Come in!”

The door opened a fraction and Alistair poked his head in. “Lianna?”

“Were you expecting someone else?” She perched on the side of the bed, quickly knotting her hair into its usual ponytail.

“Well...maybe,” he said sheepishly. He closed the door behind him, but came no further. “I hoped we could talk.”

“Is that all you hoped?” He looked away, blushing, and she felt a sharp pang of guilt. “I'm sorry, Alistair. Of course we can talk. Will you sit?” She motioned to the empty space next to her.

“I just…” Alistair looked around before seating himself in the plush chair by the fire. “About before.”

“I remember.” Not just that, but the memory kindled a warmth low in her belly. This time it was she who looked away. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have - it was unfair of me.”

“You regret it, then?”

There was a note of anxiety in his voice that broke her heart and she rushed to answer, too emphatically. “No!” She half rose from the bed, then sat back down. “Why, do you?”

“Less than anything I've ever done.” Though he smiled, she could tell he was sincere. This time she did close the distance between them, kneeling and taking his hands in hers.

“Lianna.” The sound of him saying her name sent a shiver through her body, even before the brush of his hand on her cheek made her gasp with the sudden jolt between her thighs.

No more waiting. Reaching up, she pulled his face to hers and kissed him hungrily, almost whimpering when his kiss deepened to match hers. Before she knew it she was in his lap, his fingers bunched in her shirt and his tongue curling around hers.

“Blessed Andraste.” Gasping, he broke away. “We can't.”

“Can't we?” Knowing it was unfair, she squirmed in his lap and he groaned unhappily.

“We can't. Not while...what's going on with you and Zevran?”

“Ugh.” She scowled. “Why don't you ask him?”

He tilted her chin to look in her face. “I think you should ask him.”

“You're serious.”

“I am.” His thumb traced her lip and she shivered anew. “I care for you. I might even…” He blushed, but didn't look away. “I think I love you. And I want to be with you more than anything. But not until you know what you want.”

“You,” she said hoarsely. “I want you.”

Alistair couldn't help his grin, but he still shook his head. “I'm not blind. You're angry with him. You think he doesn't care, but I'm not so sure.” Leaning in, he brushed the ghost of a kiss against her neck. “Who could let you go?”

“Isn't that what you're trying to do?” Please don't stop, she begged silently, but he gently extracted her from his lap and rose to his feet.

“Maker, I hope not.” A last kiss, this time quick and chaste on the lips. “I want you so badly it hurts. But if we're going to take this further, I need to know you're with me, and only me. I need to know nothing will happen to change your mind.”

“My word isn't enough?” Frustration made her surly.

“If you tell me you're mine, I'll believe you.” Alistair put his arms around her and she leaned into his warmth. “Even so, you should talk to Zevran first. It's only fair.”

“You’re too good,” she complained and he chuckled.  

“If I was good, would I do this?” Probably not, she conceded as he kissed a damp line from her throat to her ear.

“Alistair…”

“Lianna,” he whispered.

“If you keep doing that, I can't let you leave.”

“Then I'll stop.” She sighed as he regretfully moved away. “Talk to him. And if you still choose me, I'll be waiting.”

 

After Alistair left she paced the floor of her room until she couldn't stand the solitude any longer. Why wait? It wasn't so late, she could seek out Zevran now. He'd probably be relieved to be free of her.

Barefoot, she slipped out of her room and through the darkened halls of the Arl’s estate. Zevran had been assigned a smaller room off the library, and here she paused before knocking twice.

There was no answer, but she saw the flicker of torchlight under his door.

“Zev?” He was cross-legged on his bed, a bottle of amber liquid dangling from his fingers.

“My warden. Such a surprise.”

“You don't seem that surprised.” Uninvited, she sat beside him.

“Oh, but I am.” He offered her the bottle and she took a swig of the unexpectedly smooth brandy. “I thought you may be occupied elsewhere.”

“Zev, I…”

“I understand.” Zevran unfolded his legs and joined her on the edge of the bed. “I know of your feelings for him, and his for you.” Taking the bottle back, he drank deeply before adding, “I will not stand in your way.”

“And your feelings?”

“Ah, my feelings.” His smile was odd. “You have spared my life and won my freedom, and I am grateful.”

“You're grateful,” she repeated flatly.

“I am. For everything.” Lianna took the proffered bottle, suddenly in dire need of a drink. “In truth, Alistair is the better man. He will not let you down.”

“You will then, I suppose?”

He laughed without much humour. “Have I not already? We would hardly be having this discussion otherwise.”

“He loves me,” she snapped, unreasonably angry. “Can you say the same?”

“I cannot.” Zevran took her face in his hands, his golden eyes in shadow. “I can offer you nothing at all beyond tonight.”

“Tonight?” Despite everything, his touch woke a fire in her veins. What harm could it do, one last time, a farewell? Her voice was little more than a cracked whisper when she asked, “What can you offer me tonight?”

She could never taste brandy again without the memory of his kiss then, and the answering surge of desire through every cell in her body. She clung to him as he claimed her mouth with his. He was rougher than usual, bearing her down on the bed and exposing the curve of her neck to the scrape of his teeth and the wet heat of his tongue, making her moan with wordless need.

Dragging her hips toward him he fumbled at her leggings until she reached to help him untie the laces. In a single movement her leggings and smalls were down over her knees and his mouth was buried in her cunt.

His fingers spread her folds open while his tongue delved into her depths, the rub of his nose near her clit making her breath come in shallow gasps. Lips and tongue drew out the slick juices of her arousal. He loved this almost as much as she did, he'd told her so often enough. The sounds of his mouth working on her were wet and perfect and her fingers threaded through his hair and scratched at his scalp, eliciting a groan that sent an obscene vibration through her body.

"Maker, Zev!" Aroused as much by the suddenness of it as the restless movement of his tongue, Lianna thrashed and moaned beneath him until she was close to breaking point. She didn't want to lose this, didn't want to lose  _him._  She came with a keening cry.

Zevran wasn't done. Before she even caught her breath he had flipped her onto her belly and sheathed himself inside her, weight resting on one elbow as the other gripped her hip hard enough to bruise. "The last time, my grey warden - let us make it count, yes?"

He set a relentless pace then, slamming so beautifully into her that she lost all grief, all shame, all conscious thought. With each thrust she pushed back, needing to drive him deeper, harder, fucking herself wantonly against him.

"You like that?" He shifted his angle and she cried out in desperate pleasure.

"Yes, fuck Zev, so good, please don't stop, please please please - "

A shudder ran through her, and another, and dimly she heard his muttered curse as she clenched hard around his cock. Finally he jerked and spilled inside her and she came for him a final time, her broken wail muffled in the soft bedclothes.

For the longest time they were still, his hot breath ragged in her ear and his chest pressed damp against her back. Then he drew his softening cock free and rolled away, leaving her cold and empty.

“So,” he sighed. “This is it.”

“I suppose it is.” Rising unsteadily, she drew her leggings up and redid the laces.

“I told you I would stay until the end,” Zevran said. “I would keep my word, if you will have me.”

“Thank you.” Looking down at him, she allowed herself to imagine a world in which she didn't have to choose. “I'll see you in the morning.”

“Sleep well, my warden.” He pulled the sheets over himself and turned his back to her, and she was glad he didn't see the tears on her face.


	7. Chapter 7

“Fuck.” Lianna lay on the bed, torn between answering the knock and pretending not to be in. Her mind was such a dark swirl of thoughts she was half afraid to let anyone see her just now, least of all the man she suspected was on the other side of that door.

Finally she heard the first retreating footstep and cried out, “Wait!” It  _was_ Alistair, looking sheepish and carrying a glass bottle of something she dearly hoped was alcoholic.

“I'm sorry if I disturbed you.” He followed her back into the room and stood awkwardly as she flopped back on the bed.

“I was already disturbed.” He, too, had bathed - she couldn't blame him after returning from the alienage caked in Tevinter blood - and had on a padded undertunic over his shirt. It wasn't often she saw him not at least half armoured, one or the other of their companions helping to strap on the last unwieldy pieces of his plate. It struck her how powerfully built he was, how  _big,_ even without those heavy layers of leather and silverite.

“I wasn't sure if you needed to talk. After - you know - today.”

“You really want to talk about us?  _Now?_  Maker, Alistair - “ but he raised his hands in appeasement.

“That's not what I meant. I thought you might want to talk about  _you.”_

“Me?” She bit her lip, considering. “I don't know. Why now? You never seemed curious before.”

“I was,” he confessed, lowering himself onto the edge of the bed. “I wanted to know everything about you. But you were so...angry, in the beginning. I was afraid if I got too close you might stab me.”

The memory of it was enough to bring a flush of shame to her cheeks. “I might have, at that.”

Alistair smiled, too good-natured to hold it against her. “I'm glad I didn't push my luck, then,” he joked. “After that it never seemed the right time. And today…” His smile faded. “I was so busy thinking about Duncan, it hardly occurred to me to think you might have lost people too. And your father...if we hadn't arrived in time...”

“We didn't save everyone.” How terrified they would be, stuffed in the holds of ships and sold off to Maker knew what fate. She was ashamed of her people to think that Shianni was the only one who'd seen through the deception. “When I saw Shianni in Haven…” Angrily she blinked away tears. “I thought she must be a ghost. I thought she must be…” She couldn't finish the sentence, not without losing her dignity entirely.

“What you said about your wedding day…”

“Wait.” She sat up, avoiding his eyes so he didn't see the redness in hers. “Is that wine?”

“Ye-es...I - well, I may have pinched it from the cellar.”

“Not to worry, I think Eamon owes you more than a bottle of wine.” Taking it from his hands, she pulled out the cork with her teeth. “I don't suppose you brought glasses?”

“Ah...no.” He looked so adorably disappointed in himself, she couldn't help but smile.

“It doesn't matter. I don't mind sharing the bottle if you don't.” She ignored the unpleasant echoes from the night before, trading swigs of brandy on Zevran’s narrow bed. And then...she blushed furiously, bringing her thoughts back to the subject at hand. “About me, then. Where should I start?”

“The beginning works for me.”

He settled back on the bed as she told him of her parents, her father a labourer who worked hard when he could find work, her mother a talented thief who taught her how to fight. She tried to teach her, too, that not all humans were to be mistrusted, even after her time in a shem dungeon left her unable to ply her previous trade.

Adaia became a washerwoman then, and it was on the way from a Denerim estate back to the alienage that a group of drunken off-duty guards had taken a fancy to her and the then fourteen-year-old Lianna. Her last memory of her mother was of her screaming  _“Run!”_  as she faced them down, one slight woman against three armoured men with bared steel.

It took days, favours and bribes to bring her home again, wrapped in a bloody sheet and covered in wounds like gaping mouths.

How different would things be, she wondered, if she'd stayed to fight by her side? Or if she'd gone with them, traded a moment's brutality for the chance to see her mother again?

“Keep your head down,” her father always said. “Stay out of trouble.” But she was an elf, and trouble would find elves whether they looked for it or not.

At some point in the telling Alistair had gathered her into his arms, and she felt him tense when she described her wedding day, a sharp hiss of breath when she told how she'd been struck unconscious before awaking in the Arl’s estate.

The rest was a monotone, delivered as if she were telling someone else's story. Her friend cut down by guards without ever lifting a finger to them, Nelaros slaughtered before her eyes. He'd only known her a few minutes, this elf who died trying to rescue her. And Shianni...Shianni…

That was when she broke, great heaving sobs wracking her chest.

“I'm sorry, love. I'm so, so sorry.” Alistair rocked her like a child, his lips pressed to her hair and finally she let the grief pour forth for those she'd lost, those she'd been unable to save, for a lifetime of cruel injustices. It would never end, never, and they would keep fighting and dying for nothing. She'd been a fool to think her people would be safe when she left - an elven upstart had killed the Arl’s son for taking his due, and nothing would satisfy them but her blood.

She must have said some of this aloud, because Alistair’s grip tightened around her. “You did nothing wrong, my love. You failed nobody.”

“I failed…” she choked. “Should have done what they said…”

 _“No.”_ The unexpected steel in his voice made her look up to meet his eyes, shocked. “That's not what your mother died for. Or your fiance. And it's no guarantee any of you would have made it out alive.” His eyes were fiercer than she'd ever seen them, but his hand on her face was painfully gentle. “Others were to blame, and you killed them, and you were right to do it. And I'll do whatever I can to make sure it doesn't happen again. Not to you, not to anyone.”

“You mean…?”

“For you, I'll be king. If that's what it takes.”

It didn't sound like a sacrifice, but she knew how he dreaded the idea of leadership. For her he'd face his greatest fear, give his life over to the people of Ferelden. Even her people.

Now was not the time to doubt that one man, even the king, could change much. Now was not the time to question if he'd thought it through.

Now was the time for her arms around his neck, her lips hungry on his, grief and gratitude and fierce love all mixed together in the press of her body against his.

For a moment he stiffened as if he were afraid to break her, then her eager responsiveness broke his self control and he rolled on top of her, one big hand cradling the back of her head while the other slid up her tunic.

“Alistair…” she moaned, arching into his touch, and he shook his head as if waking up.

“Oh Maker, I'm sorry.” He looked at where his hand rested on the curve of her breast, guilty but seemingly unable to pull away. “Here you were just telling me how humans tried to force themselves on you, and I'm behaving no better.”

Her hand closed over his, squeezing his fingers against her breast. “I want you,” she murmured raggedly. “Do you think I'd let you do this if I didn't want you to?”

“I think you'd kill me without a second thought.” His voice shook a little, his fingers moving now of their own accord, marveling at the softness of her flesh in his hand. He rubbed a thumb over her taut nipple and they both jumped as if shocked, nervous laughter following. “I feel like I'm all thumbs with you.”

“I like what your thumbs are doing.” It was true; the feel of his calloused skin through the fabric of her breastband made her thighs clench and her breath quicken, starved for his touch.

“If you keep talking like that, I don't know what's going to happen.” His lips hovered over hers for a moment before he kissed her slowly, cautiously, maddeningly gentle.

“I don't care,” she whispered.

“No, I mean I don't know if I can...Maker, I don't think I'll last.”

She felt what he meant, the hard jut of his cock straining between them. “What are you waiting for, then?”

“Ohhhh.” His hips bucked as she scraped her teeth on his exposed neck. “Please don't...Oh, Andraste’s...you're going to break me.”

She relented, pushing him away and struggling to her knees. “Just follow my lead, Alistair.”

Mutely he allowed her to undo his tunic and peel away his linen shirt, grinning shyly at her open admiration of his bared torso. She felt how he shivered as her hands travelled over his chest, brushing over the golden trail of hair that vanished into his waistband.

“Perhaps you should take it from here.” She could wait, but he'd be mortified if he came now. While he fumbled with his laces she shed her own leggings, then her shirt until all that was left were smalls and breastband. Even that was enough to draw a groan from him, his eyes wide and dark with a lust that made her skin burn.

The knot was tied between her breasts and she loosened it before drawing his fingers to grasp the dangling ends. Poor man, his hands were shaking as he untied the swathe of fabric and drew it free of her body.

“Lianna.” The broken plea in his voice left her just as shaken, suddenly afraid she really might break him, all that size and strength shattering under her touch.

“Shhh.” She entwined fingers in his, marvelling at the difference in their size. “There's no rush. Take as long as you need.”

“It's not that easy.” He looked on the edge of pain, his erection pushing at his linen breeches.

“Here.” Lying back, she drew him down next to her. “Do you want me to take care of that?”

“How…?” he asked, then, “No. No, I need something - I need to be inside you.”

 _Fuck,_ if he only knew what those words did to her. “We want the same thing, then.” Hooking her thumbs in her smalls she pulled them down and kicked them away, uncaring where they landed.

Alistair froze, mesmerised by the sight of her naked body.

“You've seen me before, remember?” At the time, she couldn't have imagined ever making a joke of it. But that was where it all started, the night Zevran...

“Not like this.” His trembling hand ran down her side and up her belly, knuckles brushing the underside of her breast. “Not...right here. And me…” He looked down, seemingly surprised to find himself nearly naked beside her. “Lianna, you know I've never - “

“I know. It doesn't matter.” Carefully not touching him too much, she leaned over and freed him from the confines of his breeches. His cock sprang up against his belly, swollen and impossibly thick. Maker’s breath, could she even take it? All she knew was that she wanted nothing more than to find out.

She coaxed his tongue out with her own, gently tugging at his side until he rolled on top of her. “Are you sure?” he mumbled against her lips, and she answered by drawing her knees up around his waist, nudging her belly against his engorged cock. “Fuck,” he whispered brokenly. “I don't...I can't…”

“Follow my lead,” she said again, and guided his blunt tip against her entrance, so slick and ready for him. She could feel him tremble under her hands as he lowered himself, filling her inch by slow inch.

“Fuuuck,” he said again when he came to rest all the way inside her. “It feels…”

“I know.”

He bucked against her involuntarily and she cried aloud at the sharp jolt of pleasure.

“I hurt you!”

“You didn't.”

“Are you sure?”

“Trust me.” This time she rolled against him and they both gasped.

“Oh, Maker, it's...you're so…” Words failed him, his head falling to her shoulder as he pushed into her again.

“Yes,” she murmured, “like that. You're doing so good.” His pace was jerky at first, stuttering thrusts that nevertheless sent shivers through her body like electricity skittering over water. She was so full, legs spread so wide by his hips and his hands and mouth seemed everywhere at once, touching and tasting her as though she might not be real.

“I can't hold on,” he gasped.

“Don't.” His thrusts grew faster and she met each one with a sinuous roll of her hips, hands splayed on his back driving him harder. “Come for me," she whispered, "I'm ready.”

She was,  _so_  ready, nearly sobbing when she broke just ahead of him, the rippling walls of her cunt holding him like a vise as he shuddered and came inside her with a strangled cry.

“I love you,” he groaned, kissing the salt sweat from her neck. “I love you so much.”

“Me too.” Her pulse still racing, she couldn't seem to wipe the smile from her face.

The landsmeet tomorrow, the world still to save and half her heart still belonged elsewhere. Somehow she couldn't seem to care about any of it, enfolded in his arms.


	8. Chapter 8

“Let me get this straight.” Lianna was aware that her voice had turned dangerously low, even before she saw the alarm flare in Alistair’s eyes. “You asked me to finish things with Zevran. You said you loved me. You slept with me. And now that you're king, you're saying you have to put me aside for the sake of some _hypothetical_ wife.” She had advanced on him until his legs hit the bed, and now he sat down heavily. “Is that what's happening, Alistair?”

“Lianna, I…” He looked utterly miserable, but it wasn't enough to dull her anger. “It wouldn't be fair to you, to go on longer than…”

 _“Stop.”_ Lianna stared into his face. “This isn't you. Who put this in your head?”

He swallowed heavily. “Well, Eamon said - “

“ _Fuck_ Eamon,” she spat. “He treats you like a dog, throws you out of your home, pushes you to take the throne regardless of your wishes and then thinks you're going to dance to his tune? You're stronger than this, Alistair.”

“I - “ He scrubbed his face with his hands. “You're right. I'm so sorry.”

“You're the  _king._  You can do whatever you want.”

“Not everything.” He took her hands and examined them, unable to meet her eyes. “I can't marry you.”

She softened. “Who said anything about marriage?” Tilting his chin towards her, she forced him to look in her face. “You won't be the first king to keep a mistress, and you won't be the last.”

“I hoped to be better than Maric, at least in that regard.”

“Then be better. Don't run around fucking serving women. Don't father bastards.” She ran her hand down his cheek. “At least you don't need to fear that with me.”

“You deserve more,” he said miserably.

“Fuck that. This is what I want.” Climbing into his lap, she pressed her forehead against his. “If you think I deserve to be happy, then make me happy.”

“How…?”

“Just this.” Gently she pushed him down onto the bed, and less gently she kissed him, a press of lips and teeth that soon had him growling and bucking his hips against her.

“I'm an idiot,” he groaned, palming her breasts through her shift. “What was I thinking? I can't...I couldn't do any of this without you.”

“Then don't.” She tugged at his shirt and he sat up to remove it before sliding back on the bed, pulling her with him.

“I love you,” he murmured into her neck. “I wouldn't say it if it wasn't true.” Drawing back, he anxiously searched her face. “Do you believe me?”

“Alistair.” Her nails raked gently down his chest and she smiled to see his eyes flutter closed. “Don't try to put me aside again, and I'll never doubt it.”

“I won't. Oh Maker, I - please, forget I ever said it.” His head fell back and she couldn't resist tasting the bronzed skin of his throat.

“Make me,” she whispered.

He surged up, lips crashing into hers, releasing her only long enough to free her from her shift before his mouth closed hot over the curve of one breast, then the other. He drew a stiff nipple into his mouth and  _sucked_ and she keened, her back bowing as she arched into him.

“Fuck,  _Alistair.”_  Clutching at his shoulders, she held him in place as he laved her skin with his tongue, his hand cupping her other breast and squeezing almost to the point of pain. Something close to an orgasm shook through her and she dug her nails into his back, gasping for breath. “I need you,” she panted. “Please…”

“I'm here.” Both hands squeezed her and she arched with a cry as he bit the soft underside of her breast.

“More,” she gasped. “I need you inside me.”

“Oh, Maker.” His lips again crashed savagely on hers and his hands moved to free himself from the confines of his clothing, trousers and breeches pushed down and kicked off as she wriggled free of her smallclothes.

Just them, now, naked and already breathless.

“Maker's breath, but you're beautiful.” He lay back, his hooded eyes traveling the length of her body as she straddled him. His broad fingers trailed up her thigh, brushing close to her coppery curls. “I am a lucky man.”

Tension hummed through her body, begging for release. Her eyes never left his as she grasped his thick cock in her hand, sighing as she lowered herself onto it.

“Oh, fuck.” It wasn't often she heard Alistair swear, not beyond the odd invocation to the Maker or Andraste. It was her bringing him undone, her body clenching around him like a fist. “You feel so good. So fucking - “ His hips bucked up sharply and she bit her lip, overwhelmed by the sweet stab of pleasure.

“I love you.” Her hips rolled, taking him deeper, the friction against her clit adding to a building pressure she was sure she couldn't sustain for long. She drew herself up until he was almost completely free and dropped fast back down and he gave a wordless shout, fingers digging hard into her thighs.

She repeated this again, again, and before too long the rhythm of his hips matched hers, rising up to meet her with an obscene slap of skin on skin. His mouth fell open as he watched the place where their bodies joined, hypnotised by the sight of his slick cock disappearing into her.

“I never knew,” he groaned. “Maker, why do people do anything else?”

She laughed, exultant with his pleasure and her own. Whatever he lacked in experience he more than made up for in enthusiasm and in stamina,  _fuck,_ he never flagged as he rose to meet her, filling her again and again until she felt she might burst from the waves of sensation that rolled through her. Just the size of him, the beautiful drag of his cock inside her tight cunt was enough to make stars flash behind her eyes.

Impossible to say how long they were joined that way, sweat slicking their skin where their bodies met. Her breath was coming now in high little cries, she was close, so close, so - she  _screamed,_ her back bowing with the force of it.

Alistair watched her come, his pupils blown wide with desire. He growled, building in pace, one hand kneading hard at her breast while the other at her hip thrust her against him faster and faster until he arched beneath her, roaring as his head fell back and his cock jerked inside her.

“Fuck, that was...Oh, Maker, Andraste, fuck.”

“You'll be hit by lightning if you carry on like that.” She grinned, pushing damp strands of hair back from her face.

“That's not what that was?” His hand was still at her breast, gently stroking and toying with her nipple. “I should make you angry more often.”

“Don't you dare,” she warned, “or lightning will be the least of your troubles. I'll feed you to the darkspawn.”

He grinned lopsidedly. “See, this is why I love you.” His eyes softened, and he tugged gently at her shoulders. “Come here.”

The fire was still banked high, the room warm enough for them to lie entwined naked on top of the covers. His sword-roughened fingers idly mapped her body.

“Tell me…” He paused, uncertain.

“Hmm?”

“Do you regret it? Ending things with Zevran?”

She shifted to look in his eyes, running her thumb tenderly along his bottom lip. “I don't regret you.”

“That's not really an answer though, is it?”

“Is this an answer?” Her lips pressed soft against his, and his mouth fell open to allow her tongue access. Moaning, he pressed himself against her and she kissed him and kissed him until the question was all but forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next work in the series takes place between this chapter and the next: I've left it as a separate work because it's too pure and fluffy to go here.  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/10765629


	9. Chapter 9

“Mmmmm...what are you doing?”

It was early, pre-dawn as far as Lianna could judge by the grey quality of the light outside the tent.

Alistair’s head rested on the inside of her thigh, her hips rolled back to give him clear access between her legs. Now he kissed the crease where thigh met groin and murmured, “Good, you're awake.”

He lingered then, his morning stubble scratching gently against her skin.

“Again?” He'd licked her there for what felt like hours last night. She still felt flushed and swollen, but the memory alone was enough to make her twitch towards him. “Aren't you tired of that by now?”

“Are you?” His fingers pushed open her folds but still he didn't taste her, just breathing in her scent.

“I'm not sure that's possible.” The fog of sleep was penetrated by something sharper, a furtive stab of desire. She shifted restlessly and felt him smile against her leg.

“Nor am I.” Finally a sweep of his tongue along her swollen slit and she whimpered, already shaking with need. He delved into her entrance, suddenly slick and aching for contact.

He was a fast learner, considering last night was the first time he'd tried this. It had taken her by surprise when he first slid down between her legs - she'd been too self-conscious to ask, for all she had yearned for it. Tentative at first, his confidence had grown as he found the touches that made her gasp and quiver, the right balance of hard and soft to bring her undone with his mouth alone.

And he remembered. A teasing circle around her entrance, dipping inside before drawing her juices up towards her clit, circling the hooded nub until she squirmed beneath him. Then the flat of his tongue, sweeping up the length of her then pressing maddeningly against her clit, denying her the friction she craved.

“Please, Alistair, please…” The words came out barely formed, but he understood and relented, flicking his tongue upward until she could hardly breathe, only whine piteously.

“That's it, love,” he paused long enough to whisper before two fingers slid inside her, rocking gently in and out, and his tongue swirled around her clit until she keened.

“Oh, Maker.” His fingers rested still inside her, as if he was reluctant to leave that wet warmth. “I wish I'd known about this ages ago.”

A coherent thought intruded on her sex-fogged mind. “Wait...how did you know about it?” Sex had been good with Alistair, amazing even, but he'd unlocked far too many secrets in one night.

“I…” He sat up, and if it was lighter she was sure she'd see him blushing. “Well…”

“Alistair! You asked someone, didn't you? Who?” Then she recalled Zevran teasing him, making both of them stammer and blush. “You didn't!”

“I just wanted - “ He scratched at his scalp, ashamed. “I wanted to make you feel good. As good as you did with…”

With him. Lianna pulled him down next to her and took his face between her hands. “Alistair, you sweet idiot.” She kissed his forehead. “You know, there's someone else you could ask if you want to know how to make me happy.”

“There is?” His voice rose almost to a squeak as he considered the possibilities. “Who?”

“Me, you fool.” Her body pressed against his, the slow drag of her nipples against his chest making him breath raggedly.

“You're not angry then, that I talked to him?” He ran his hands up her sides and she felt his length growing harder against her thigh.

“Honestly? If anything, I'm a little turned on.” She smirked and left him to think on that as she slid beneath the blankets to return the favour.


	10. Chapter 10

This was not how tonight was supposed to go.

Leanna paced her room agitatedly. If only she had a target for the rage and frustration growing inside her, an enemy to occupy her and distract her from the images crowding her mind.

Images of Alistair and Morrigan.

Today had been one blow after another. Redcliffe overrun by darkspawn, the sudden change of plan that would have them marching to Denerim in the morning to face an archdemon. Then Riordan's news. So one of them would die tomorrow...it had always been a possibility. Every battle, every skirmish, there was a chance they would be the ones who didn't walk away. But they had this night, this final night before the end, and they'd make it count.

Until Morrigan turned up.

It was guilt, not jealousy that had her stomach twisted in knots. Here she was pushing him into bed with a woman he didn't even like, a woman whose motives she didn't entirely trust even after all this time. Perhaps in the end one of the three Wardens would die slaying the archdemon and it would all be for nothing. But if not...if not…

She hoped he could forgive her.

Somebody cleared their throat in the dim corner of the room and she spun, reaching for where her knives would be if she was wearing more than a thin shift.

“I've had about enough of people sneaking into this fucking room tonight,” she snarled at Zevran, and he answered with a shrug.

“I am sorry, my Warden. The door was open.”

“Unlocked is not the same as open.”

“You seem troubled, my dear lady. Where is Alistair?” He looked around as if the human, too, might be concealed in a dark corner.

“Not here,” she snapped. “Did you need him for something?”

He finally looked abashed. “Ah...it was Alistair who asked me to come here, in fact.”

“Why?”

The elf settled into a chair by the fire. “As to that, I would prefer to let Alistair explain.”

“You could be waiting a while.” How long did an arcane sex ritual take, anyway? She stopped pacing long enough to press her hands hard against her eyes, swearing under her breath.

“In that case, have you anything to drink? You seem as though you could use one yourself. Ah!” As if as an afterthought, he fished in his pockets and withdrew a flask of Antivan rum. “If you do not wish to drink, I hope you do not mind if I indulge?”

“Give me that.” She had taken a huge swig of the golden liquid before the taste brought back a searing memory, a shared drink before their final, primal encounter. She sat down hard on the bed, doing her best to hide her sudden discomfort. “Thanks,” she muttered, passing the bottle over and ignoring his knowing smile. “Are you going to tell me what this is about?”

“I cannot. I apologise.” Lianna was too aware of his golden eyes on her face. She should find something to cover herself, she thought, but it wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen more than this in the past. If Alistair wanted to invite her ex-lover into her rooms without asking her, he couldn’t very well expect her to preserve her modesty.

“I have not seen your hair down in a long time,” Zevran mused. “I must say, I miss it.”

It was too close to her own thoughts, and a self-conscious hand flew to her copper tresses. “Yes, well...it’s not too practical in a fight.” She cleared her throat. “Zev, I don’t know if I ever apologised - “

“No need.” He passed her the rum. “It is not as though I encouraged you to stay with me.”

“Still…”

“I will not hear it, my Warden.” He smiled sadly. “You deserve someone who can love you without reservation. I was not that man.”

Before she could question his use of the past tense, the door creaked open and Alistair appeared. His hair was damp and his skin pink as if he’d spent some time scrubbing it clean. Lianna saw the guilt in his eyes before she rushed to him and threw her arms around his neck. He froze for a second in surprise, then he was crushing her against him, murmuring, “I’m sorry, love, I’m sorry.”

“You have _nothing_ to be sorry for, you hear me? Nothing.” There was no lingering scent of the other woman, just the clean smell of soap and _him,_ Alistair, solid and real and only hers. “Nothing has changed. I love you.”

“I love you too.” His voice broke in relief.

They stayed that way for the longest time before she finally remembered Zevran. She drew back, and Alistair followed her line of sight to the elf sitting patiently in the chair.

“Oh,” he said. “Of course.”

“Of course?” Lianna looked between the two of them with a frown. “Is somebody going to tell me what’s going on?”

“You didn’t…?”

“It is not my place, Alistair.” There was no trace of humour in Zevran’s face, and she felt a stirring of unease.

“What the fuck is this?” 

“Please, sit down.” Alistair glanced at the flask. “Is that rum? Oh, thank you.” He closed his eyes for a second before passing it back to Zevran. “I could have used that an hour ago.”

The weak joke gave her comfort. If he could still deflect with humour, he’d be alright. But that didn’t explain what the assassin was doing in her room.

“Alistair.”

“Look…” He sat next to her, glancing nervously at Zevran. “I’ve been thinking, and...oh, Maker. There’s something I…”

“I’m listening.” His hand trembled a little in hers.

“It wasn’t fair of me, to make you choose.”

“What do you mean?”

“Between us.” Again, his eyes flickered to Zevran.

“Are you seri- “

“Please,” he begged. “Let me finish. I’ve spent nearly all my time with the two of you over this past year. I’ve seen you together, and apart. And I don’t think you’ve been unhappy, exactly, since you’ve been with me -”

“I haven’t!”

“But something’s missing. I can see it.” He cupped her cheek, wiping away the single tear that ran down her face. “I can’t give you everything you need.”

“What do you mean?” she asked again, fingers tightening on his hand.

“I mean, you love him. And I think he loves you.”

Zevran was silent, watching the two of them.

“I love _you!”_ she cried.

“I believe you.” Alistair pressed his forehead to hers. “And I love you too. I’m not giving you up.”

“So...what, then? What are you saying?”

“I’m saying if you want…” Now he avoided looking at Zevran, his brown eyes locked on hers. “We might die in the days to come. Even with - you know. And if you wanted to be with him one last time, I wouldn’t stand in your way.”

“I can’t - “ She broke free, standing and fixing a deathly glare on them both. “Are you seriously suggesting some kind of revenge sex? Because of - “

Now it was Zevran’s turn to look confused.

“No! Maker, no.” Alistair was horrified. “I asked him hours ago to come here.”

“Oh, well that’s much better! The two of you behind my back, tossing a coin to decide which of you gets me for the night.”

“Perhaps I should go…” Zevran half rose from his seat and she wheeled on him, sending him flinching back against the chair in a way that might have been funny if she weren’t so furious.

“Don’t you dare! You were part of this! Both of you, thinking you can make decisions on my behalf like I’m some child who doesn’t know her own mind! And to spring this on me now, when...when... _ fuck! _ How  _ dare  _ you decide this without me!”

“Nothing’s decided, love.” Alistair looked so contrite, her anger almost faded. “I’m sorry if it seems like I ambushed you…”

“Seems?” she snorted.

“But of course, nothing will happen if you don’t want it to. I just wanted to give you the choice, in case…” He trailed off, his shoulders hunched miserably.

“Oh, Alistair. You are so silly.” She pushed his shoulders back and settled into his lap, running a fond hand through his short hair. “Who would ever come up with such an idea? I don’t know whether I should kiss you or slap you.”

“I’d take either,” he murmured, arms snaking around her waist.

Zev cleared his throat. “I will leave the two of you in peace.”

“Wait.” As he rose, she grabbed his wrist and looked up into his golden eyes. 

"Lianna?"

She glanced at Alistair, back at Zevran, both watching her with held breath.

“I didn’t say no.”


	11. Chapter 11

There was a long silence, then “You are certain?” asked Zevran.

“I am.” If they were going to do this, there was no room for second thoughts. “That is, if the two of you are…”

“Yes,” Alistair said decisively, echoed by Zevran.

“How, then…?”

“I can leave, if that would…” Alistair stood, his sentence trailing off awkwardly.

“Please stay,” Lianna blurted. “If that’s alright.”

“I do not mind in the least.” Zevran smirked, and the warden blushed to the roots of his hair.

“Well then.” He cleared his throat. “Where should I go?”

“Take my seat,” said the elf. “I doubt we shall be using it, but I will let you know.”

“You’re enjoying this entirely too much.” Alistair looked doubtfully at the vacant chair, seated close to the bed. “Are you sure you want me right there, you know....watching?”

“If you would prefer to face the wall…?”

“Fine.” He eased his large frame into the chair, long legs stretched out in front of him. “I suppose you may as well get started, then.”

“Are we really doing this?” Lianna wasn’t sure who she was asking, but it was Zevran’s hands that rested on her shoulders, Zevran’s mouth that closed over hers. And Maker, she had missed this. His lips easing the way for the confident sweep of his tongue, his face smooth against hers, his hands moving over the curves of her body to rest on her arse, tantalisingly close to where her thighs joined. This wasn’t her idea, she tried to remind herself, but she still felt like a traitor when a low moan escaped her lips.

He nudged her head back to kiss her neck, tracing up to the shell of her ear. “You should kiss your warden,” he whispered. “We do not want him feeling left out, do we?”

Drunk with more than rum, she let Zevran steer her in Alistair's direction and leaned down to his surprised face. “I love you,” she murmured before kissing him deeply, her hand sliding around the back of his neck. “You know that, don't you?”

“This won't change anything.” He gripped her wrist, rubbing a calloused thumb against the heel of her hand. “I want you to know that. Whatever happens, I'm with you.”

Giving him what she hoped was a reassuring smile, she turned back to Zevran.

“Now, where were we?” He kissed her again, his hands straying to her chest and thumbing her nipples through the thin shift. “I have missed these.” When he bent to kiss her neck again she stole a glance at Alistair, his pupils gone wide and dark. He bit his lip as Zevran reached under her shift, tugging away her smallclothes with a few deft movements.

“Sit.” He eased her onto the bed, facing Alistair, and knelt between her legs. Lifting a single foot, he placed a kiss on her ankle, then her calf, her knee, inching ever higher. When he reached her thigh he rested the leg over his shoulder, hiking up the fabric of her shift until it sat bunched around her waist.

“Ah,” he sighed. “Beautiful.” He slid his hands underneath her, angling her towards the sweep of his tongue.

“Oh!” she cried, her fingers digging into the bedclothes as he pushed his tongue between her folds. “I - oh, fuck. Fuuuuuck.” Her hips bucked against him. He flicked fast and wet against her clit and she arched, almost screaming.

“Are you alright?” Alistair rose half out of his seat, his face etched with concern. Unable to answer she just nodded, sliding a hand around the back of Zevran’s head to hold him in place, hoping this would provide her lover some reassurance. Her fingers slid through Zevran’s hair and he responded with a deep swirl of his tongue, making her eyes flutter back.

When she next focused on Alistair he was watching the two of them with lidded eyes. She saw him shift in his chair, the bulge in his pants clearly becoming uncomfortable.

She tightened her fingers in Zevran’s hair and he glanced up. Her eyes flickered to Alistair and back, an unspoken question, and she saw his eyes crease in a smile.

“Alistair,” she gasped, reaching toward him.

“What do you need?”

“Please.” In two strides he was at her side, surprise quickly turning to desire as she pulled his face down to hers.

It could have been her imagination but it seemed there was something possessive in his kiss that she’d never felt before. He forced her willing lips apart and claimed her mouth with his tongue, one hand fisting in her hair to tilt her head back. The other hand grasped her shift and he broke away only long enough to pull the thin linen up and over her head.

She felt Zevran’s groan of approval between her legs, his grip on her tightening. Then Alistair bent to take the tip of her breast into his mouth, his tongue running hot circles around her hard nipple.

“Maker.” She clung to them both as if drowning, and in a way she was. “I’m going to...fuck, I’m...oh please, please…”

Alistair broke away from her breast with a wet sound, his fingers taking up the work of his mouth as he breathed warm and ragged against her ear. “Come for us, love,” he murmured, and that was all it took to make her convulse with a broken scream, only her arm around his neck holding her upright.

“Good girl.” He kissed her tenderly, lips on hers mirroring Zevran’s slowing attentions against her cunt. Another wave hit her sensitised flesh and she shuddered, squeezing her eyes shut. “I think you’re hurting her,” he muttered, concerned.

“No.” She smiled tremulously. “He’s not. Just...give it a minute. Are you alright?” She bent to press her lips against the outline of his cock, still straining hard against his breeches. “Can I help?”

“Maker, no!” he cried even as his hand tightened in her hair, his hips almost bucking towards her mouth. “I mean...I couldn’t.”

“We are all friends here, Alistair.” Zevran drew his face back, glistening with her juices, and the warden flushed crimson. “But I have a better idea.”

“I’m not going to like this, am I?” He stifled a groan as Lianna began to untie his laces, her desire already returning with unexpected urgency.

“On the contrary my dear warden, you will like it very much.”

Alistair looked wholly unconvinced as Zevran rose and shed his armour, finally standing naked before them. Lianna grinned, noticing how his breath quickened as his eyes traced the elf’s swirling tattoos, his cock twitching beneath her hand.

“Come.” Zevran hopped onto the bed and rested against the headboard, gesturing for Lianna to join him. She shuffled back, letting him gather her into his arms so her back was pressed against his chest. He lifted one of her arms to rest around the back of his neck and hooked her knees over his, moving his legs wide apart so she was spread open, her glistening slit exposed to Alistair’s hungry gaze.

“Beautiful, is she not?” He spread her folds wide with his fingers, putting her on display, and she felt a rush of damp warmth at her core.

“Yes,” Alistair breathed.

“Here.” Zevran took the other man’s hand, drawing him down to kneel at the end of the bed. Fingers entwining, he pressed both their hands to her breast. Then he guided Alistair’s fingers between her legs, tracing soft circles around her slick entrance.

“You like that?” the elf murmured.

“Ye-es,” she cried, and saw Alistair smile before two fingers slid inside her, different rhythms and angles working against her walls but both men operating in tandem, their other hands still kneading at her breast. Before long her legs began to quiver, then someone’s hand ground hard against her clit and she arched, her cunt clenching and rippling around their fingers.

“Take her.” Zevran eased her limp body down until her hips rested between his knees. Hurried now, Alistair shed his remaining clothes, and when she saw his throbbing cock she could understand the urgency. His embarrassment seemed forgotten as he positioned himself at her entrance, groaning in relief when he finally came to rest inside her.

He moved slowly, trembling with the effort not to rut into her. “It’s alright, Alistair.” Lifting her hips, she drove him deeper. “I want you to.”

“I can do this,” he said through gritted teeth. “Just give me a minute.” And sure enough, his strokes became more even, slow and hard, each measured thrust making her eyes roll back in her head.

“Ah, my warden.” Zevran traced her lips with his thumb and she parted them enough to flick her tongue against the calloused pad. “May I fuck that pretty mouth?” DImly she heard Alistair groan as her cunt clenched around him.

“Please,” she whispered. “Yes.”

He lowered her gently into the pillows, positioning himself so one hand grasped the headboard, the other cupping the back of her head. Alistair’s movements stuttered a little as he watched her tongue swirl around the head of Zevran’s cock. “Fuck,” he murmured as she took the head between her lips, then drew back to run her tongue along the underside of his shaft. She shifted her jaw to take him deeper, doing her best to relax her throat even as Alistair’s thrusts pushed her back into the pillows.

Zevran stayed as still as possible, resisting the urge to buck against her mouth. Instead he supported her head, letting her bob back and forth on his cock, taking him a little deeper every time. “So good. Ah, yes, just so.” His eyes closed and his head fell forward, his breath growing shallower and more ragged by the minute.

Alistair. She couldn’t see him any more, reaching out blindly behind Zevran until his hand took hers. “I’m here,” she heard him say. “Not long now. You’re doing so good. So good…” A hard thrust made her moan around Zevran’s cock and he cried out, a string of Antivan that could have been words of love or the filthiest of obscenities, possibly both.

Several things happened at once. Zevran’s hips jerked against her and she felt his seed spurting into her throat, swallowing as much of it as she could before it trickled out the corner of her mouth. Then Alistair’s fingers slid between her legs, running tight circles around her clit. Zevran pulled free of her mouth and she met Alistair’s eyes, her lips swollen and messy. She came just before he did, the ripple of her cunt around him bringing him to a shouting climax even as his fingers drew out her orgasm, and Zevran bent to suckle each of her breasts in turn.

“I love you,” she gasped, her heart pounding, and didn’t even know which of them she meant.

The three of them collapsed in a sticky, sated mess, bodies coated in sweat.

"Well, that was..." Alistair trailed off.

"How are you feeling?" Lianna snuggled back against Zevran, running a hand down Alistair's chest.

"I'm...wow." He grinned up at the ceiling. "You were amazing. Seeing you like that..." 

"Thank you both." Zevran disentangled his legs from hers. "I must be going."

"Do you have to go?" She twisted to look at him. "It's so warm here, between the two of you."

"Stay," Alistair pleaded, then blushed. "She wants you to."

"Well." Zevran laid back down, his arm snaking around her waist. "Let it not be said that I disappointed a lady."

"Thank you." She sighed in contentment, pressed between the bodies of the men she loved.


	12. Chapter 12

Lianna’s face ached from smiling by the time she escaped the crowd. The scrutiny of the shemlen made her nervous even now she was apparently their hero - but heroes could fall in an instant, Loghain had shown her that much.

_A year ago, that crowd would have cheered to see your head on a pike._

All she wanted was to escape the gaze of strangers. All she wanted was Alistair - to surrender to his strong arms, to feel him moving inside her.

Wearily she brushed off the attentions of the palace servants - she knew the way to the guest quarters, she told them, and she was grateful for their assistance but she'd prefer not to be disturbed. Through the great hall, upstairs, left and past three doors.

 _Please be here._ He said he'd be here.

“Love.”

No ceremonial armour now - he wore simple trousers and a loose white shirt. And behind him…

“Amora.”

Alistair’s lips on hers, and Zevran joining them to suckle at her neck - Lianna felt the cares of the day melt away beneath their drifting hands.

“Mmm, I do like you in this dress,” Zevran murmured in her ear. “I would like to see it hiked around your waist. I would like to see your little breasts spilling free of this tight bodice…”

“Give the lady a moment!” Alistair complained, although his cock was half hard against her thigh. “Come, there's food and wine. I'm sure you'd like to sit down.”

It was true, between the endless ceremonies and parades and the intoxicating press of their bodies against hers, she could barely stand. She sighed in relief when Alistair sat and pulled her into his lap, one broad thigh sliding between her legs.

“Wine?”

“Please.”

She drank too hastily, a trickle spilling from the cup and running down towards her cleavage, rescued at the last second by Alistair's tongue. He followed the trail to its source, licking up the column of her throat and flicking his tongue at the corner of her lips.

“So what's going on?” Lianna glanced at Zevran, watching Alistair's display with obvious satisfaction. “I wasn't expecting both of you.”

“We have a proposal for you, my dear Warden. But first, eat.” He pushed a plate towards her, loaded with an assortment of fruits and cheeses from the platter in the centre of the table. “Alistair will explain.”

She ate gratefully, eyes widening as she listened to their plan. Zevran would accompany her in her duties as Warden-Commander - it would appear to the public that the two of them were a couple.

“And I would expect you'd like to - ahem - couple in private, also,” said Alistair, causing her to almost choke on a slice of melon. Zevran grinned. But on their visits to Denerim, which would hopefully be frequent, Zevran would provide a front of respectability - here the elf laughed openly - while she spent time with the new king.

“Wait,” she said, swivelling in Alistair’s lap. “With you, or with both of you?”

“That's up to you, love.” His eyes met Zevran's in mutual understanding. “We're happy either way. More than happy.”

“I…” She swallowed, her mouth dry. “Yes. I'd like that.”

Both men smiled, pleased. “And now, my Warden?” Zevran leaned forward in his seat, his golden eyes hungry. “What would you like now?”

Alistair's fingers worked at her bodice, drawing apart the stiff layers of fabric. “You,” she breathed as he drew a pale, high breast free of the dress. “Both of you.”

Zevran's gaze fell to where Alistair’s fingers kneaded her milky flesh, eyes darkening when he rolled the pink nipple to stiffness between thumb and forefinger. He looked at Alistair and she could feel the heat in their gaze, the twitch of the king’s cock against her clothed rear.

“The other,” he said throatily, and Alistair obliged, now palming both of the firm mounds, the drag of his calloused hands against her nipples making her arch into his touch.

The elf unfolded from his chair with cat-like grace, a growing erection visible in his leather breeches. He paused in front of them and Alistair cupped her bare breasts, offering them up to him.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, and somehow Lianna knew he meant not just the pale swell of her breasts, but the sight of them framed by Alistair’s tanned fingers, her nipples sticking out hard and proud from his recent attentions. Then a warm, wet mouth closed over one breast, drawing hard on the sensitised flesh until she cried out.

“That's it, love.” Alistair’s breath was hot in her ear, his thigh rubbing slowly between her legs. Zevran moved his attention to the other breast and Alistair fingered the nipple left bare, now slick with saliva. She rubbed wantonly against Alistair’s leg, desperate to relieve the growing tension in her cunt.

Zevran's mouth left her breast with a lewd pop, and the next thing she knew Alistair was making a soft sound of surprise as the elf’s tongue pressed between his lips. It deepened to a needy groan, his fingers tangling hard in the other man’s hair to hold his head at the right angle. Now his hips were bucking against her, the tip of his cock pressing rock hard between her buttocks. She swivelled to lick and bite at his throat.

“Oh, you wicked elves,” he groaned, before biting at Zevran's full lower lip hard enough to draw a moan of protest from the other man.

Zevran's groin was inches from her face, his neglected cock still straining at his breeches. She rubbed the palm of her hand against it, looking up at him questioningly.

“Ah, not so fast, little minx.” When he broke away his chest was heaving, his face reddened from Alistair’s stubble. “By your leave, my king…I think it is time for our warden to show us what she can do with those clever fingers.”

“I like the sound of that,” Alistair said. Flushed pink from her face to her naked breasts, Lianna allowed the men to lead her over to her bed, where Zevran spent some time arranging the pillows beneath her back.

“Now,” the elf said, settling at the end of the bed and gesturing for Alistair to join him. “Did you know that our sweet Lianna likes dirty talk?”

“I did not.” Alistair looked at her with interest.

“She does.” Zevran removed her satin slippers. “It makes her moan and whimper.” Lianna bit her lip as he slid her layered skirts up, his fingers lingering at her thighs before he peeled the silken stockings from her legs. “It makes her deliciously wet, does it not, my warden?”

All she could manage in response was an incoherent whine.

“Now, my beauty. Take off those silly little smallclothes. Slowly…yes, just so. Now spread your legs.” Zevran palmed himself hard, twice, and she smiled to see that she was not the only one in discomfort. Alistair, too, was sweating lightly, his eyes transfixed between her thighs.

“Pull your skirts up,” Zevran ordered. “Higher. Show us your pretty cunt.” She closed her eyes, not knowing whose low groan she heard as she parted her thighs further.

“See how she glistens?” Zevran said. “Tell her how pretty she is.”

“You're beautiful,” Alistair said thickly. She peered at him beneath lowered lashes, his lips parted with desire.

“What would you like her to do, Alistair?”

He didn't hesitate. “Touch herself.”

The elf tutted. “Do not tell me. Tell her.” He smirked. “In detail. Let there be no confusion.”

His brown eyes met hers, lust winning over his embarrassment. “I want you to touch yourself.” He glanced at Zevran and licked his lips. “I want you to stroke your - your cunt. Spread it wide and show us how wet your fingers are.” Confidence growing as he saw the arousal on her face, he smiled. “I want you to fuck yourself with your hand until you scream.”

“Very good, Alistair.” Zevran glared at her with mock sternness, draping an arm around the other man's shoulders. “You heard the king, my lady.”

Tentatively at first, she moved her hand between her legs, arousal already coating her lips. Her fingers slid easily along her slit. Tilting her hips up, she parted her folds for their hungry eyes and teased two fingers inside, then drew the slick up to coat her swollen pearl.

“Let us hear you.” Not taking his eyes off her, Zevran pressed an open-mouthed kiss to Alistair’s neck. “Show us how much you love fingering that sweet little cunt for us.”

Lianna moaned, her eyes flickering shut as her glistening fingers worked between her legs. When next she opened them both men were bare-chested, Zevran rutting against Alistair’s clothed rear as one tattooed arm snaked around his waist, a hand moving rhythmically down the front of Alistair’s trousers. She cried out and their eyes snapped back to her, fingers now working furiously between her legs.

"Touch your tits," Alistair moaned. "Please." She gladly obliged, clutching at each pert breast in turn, ensuring that her round nipples peeked between her fingers as they rolled and pinched the soft flesh. 

Zevran's chin rested on Alistair's shoulder, both men watching in fascination as their lover brought herself to a peak. Tiny animal cries came from the back of her throat, growing higher and louder as she felt her climax approaching.

“Come, my warden,” Zevran groaned. “Come on those pretty fingers.” He freed Alistair’s hard cock from his pants, his hand pumping hard at the rigid shaft.

Lianna came sharp and hard, screaming, her entire body quivering with release. She heard Alistair’s throaty gasp before his seed spilled through Zevran's fingers, splashing over the expensive bedclothes.

“Stay,” Zevran gasped, gripping Alistair’s hips hard and grinding against him until his movements grew jerky, his face finally slackening with release. “Ah, my wardens.” He rested his head on Alistair’s shoulder. Alistair twisted to kiss his sweaty temple, unmistakable tenderness in his face.

“Come here,” she pleaded, and the three of them tangled uncaring on the soiled bedclothes, fair and sandy and copper hair mingling on the pillows, bronzed and pale skin pressed damply together. “My loves.”


	13. Chapter 13

It was hard to say who stirred first. What began as the idle stroke of fingers became hands grasping at bare skin, the restless shifting of hips, hot, wet mouths on necks. Layer by layer Lianna’s dress was peeled away until she writhed naked between their hard bodies.

“Fuck her, my king,” Zevran murmured. He reached across Lianna to stroke Alistair's hip. “I want to see that thick cock pounding into her tight little elven pussy.”

Lianna, her face buried in Alistair’s neck as his fingers teased between her legs, moaned in assent.

“What will you be doing?” Alistair held up his fingers, slick with her juices, and Zevran made an approving sound as he sucked them clean.

“Mmm. I will be watching, of course. I must conserve my energy if I am to keep up with you Grey Wardens. Besides,” he drew her hair back to lick at the shell of her ear. “To see two beautiful lovers taking their pleasure of each other is something I enjoy very much.” He bit gently at the sensitive tip of her ear, making her gasp and clutch at Alistair's shoulder.

“See how ready she is for you.” The elf smirked, rolling away and propping himself up one elbow. “Why are you still wearing pants, you silly man?”

“What do you think, love?” Alistair tilted her face up to his, tongue sliding insistently in her mouth. “What do you want, right now?”

“I want you inside me,” she breathed. “I want your fingers, and your tongue.”

“And then?” His fingers pushed past her slick folds and curled inside her.

“Your cock.” She twisted to allow him deeper. “I want you filling me. Fucking me. _Fuck me,_ Alistair.”

He growled. In a single fluid movement he flipped her onto her back, fingers still buried in her cunt, and bent to lick at her clit.

“Oh, yes.” Zevran’s smile widened. “If you could see this - ah, you look so pretty, my wardens.”

Alistair's fingers pumped steadily in and out, his tongue curling against her until she arched off the bed. Dimly aware of Zevran's eyes still on them, Lianna’s hands drifted to her breasts. Squeezing them together, rolling the nipples between her fingers.

“Yes,” she moaned. “Oh, Maker, yes. _Alistair.”_

His eyes flickered up to hers, black with desire.

“Please. I want to come with you inside me.” Too close - her legs were shaking now, her breath ragged. “Fuck me now, Alistair, _please.”_

Not yet, not yet…”YES!” He slammed into her, the first powerful thrust enough to send her spiralling over the edge. “Oh yes…thank you, thank you.” Tears spilling from her eyes she fell back against the pillows and he fucked her to a second shattering climax, the hot spurt of his seed filling her and leaking from her into the sheets.

"Maker's breath!" He flopped onto his back, grinning up at the ceiling. "That was amazing."

She felt the mattress shift, then Zevran returned to press a glass of cool water to her lips.

“You come so beautifully, _mi amores._ I could watch you all day.”

“No you couldn't,” she said drowsily, reaching up to rub the bulge in his pants. “Sooner or later, you'd need some attention.”

“You may be right.” He laced his fingers through hers. “Still…one of these days I will have you fuck slowly for me. I would like to see you take that magnificent cock inch by inch, to see it sliding in and out all wet with your juices. Let us see that famous Grey Warden stamina in action.”

"Zev." She stroked him more insistently. "Take these off."

"All in good time." His own hand drifted down her belly and through her damp curls, fingertips teasing lightly at her leaking folds. 

“Is that water?” Alistair reached across her, his naked chest covered in a sheen of sweat. He gulped it down and wiped his mouth. “Oh, I needed that.”

“Mmm, I needed it too.” She pulled him down for a lingering kiss, legs parting for Zevran's hand. 

“I meant the water, but that was good as well.” He stroked her breasts, kissing each of her nipples in turn.

"Keep doing what you are doing, amore." Zevran slid down the bed and settled between her thighs as Alistair’s tongue slid lazily over her breasts. Then another tongue ran up the length of her slit. Zevran gave a hum of approval. "You taste like him."

Alistair paused in his ministrations to watch him lap at their mingled juices with obvious satisfaction. "Beautiful," he murmured. "Does it feel good, love?" He pressed the pad of his thumb to her bottom lip and swept his tongue into her mouth. 

"Mmmm."

"What can I do for you?" 

Her eyes flickered to Zevran - he had freed his cock, pumping it slowly as he licked her. "Not me. Him."

Alistair bit his lip, flushing with nervous anticipation. "What do you think, Zev? Would you like, er, a hand?"  

He grinned wickedly. "If the lady insists." They manoeuvred awkwardly until Lianna lay on her side with his head pillowed on her thigh, Alistair propped on one elbow behind him with a thick fist wrapped around his cock. 

"I haven't done this before." Alistair cleared his throat. "For someone else, that is." But when Zevran settled into a rhythm with his mouth, Alistair quickly matched his pace, firm strokes from root to tip until the elf lost focus, his tongue writhing against her and his nose pressed hard to her clit. 

"I'm coming," Lianna gasped and Alistair's hand pumped faster, the wet slapping sound culminating in a groan that vibrated against her cunt. She felt the hot splash of seed on her skin. "Don't stop," she pleaded breathlessly, "so close..."

It was fingers that finally pushed her over the edge, she couldn't even say whose but they pushed inside her and a tongue curled around her clit and she _screamed,_ her thighs locking tight around Zevran's shoulders. Shaking with the force of it she clung to the warm body that pressed against her - Alistair’s, one of his hands stroking Zevran's head and the other wrapped around the back of her neck. 

"I love you." He kissed her chastely on the forehead. “Now, let's get cleaned up a bit. Drink some wine. And then…” Grinning lopsidedly, he ran his fingers through Zevran's hair until the man practically purred. “We can see how the rest of the night plays out.”

The next hours passed in a haze, moments that would come back to her in the days to come and make her wet in her travelling leathers. Lianna riding Zevran languorously while Alistair sucked purple marks down his hairless chest. Alistair taking her on all fours, Zevran gripping her hair tightly as his seed spilled down her throat. Straddling Alistair's face while his tongue thrust into her cunt, his fingers tightening on her thighs as Zevran’s mouth expertly worked on his cock.

“I don't think I can let you leave,” Alistair said when they lay spent, one elf nestled under each arm. “Either of you.”

“We'll always come back.” Lianna caressed his bare hip. “How could we not, when we know what we're missing?”

“Mmm.” Sleepy, Zevran burrowed into his side. “I, for one, could not stay away.”

“Good.” Alistair kissed each of them on the forehead before drawing the sheets up over the three of them, snuggled in a sticky, sweaty pile.

She woke twice in the night. Once to stifled moans and movements under the covers, smiling before she drifted back into dreams. A second time to Alistair's hard cock pressing into her back and she rolled over onto her belly, spread her legs and let him fuck her into the mattress until she was a quivering, whimpering mess.

And again in the morning when they bathed in Alistair’s huge tub, the two of them soaping her hair and breasts and their tongues tangling over her shoulder. 

Beneath the water, Zevran's finger teased at the tight pucker between her cheeks. "Do you like that, my warden? Learn how to take me there, and next time we will both fuck you at once." As it was she knelt between them to take Alistair’s cock in her mouth while Zevran pumped away between her slippery thighs, obscene and wonderful. 

The two of them surrounding her, her senses filled with them, her soul bursting with love - she wasn't sure she could ever settle for less than this again. 

 

“Soon, _amora._ We will come back soon.”

They paused on a hill above Denerim, looking back at the city bathed in morning light.

“Look after each other.” Alistair's final embrace had been fierce, his voice cracking as he bid them farewell. “I love you.” His words were directed to Lianna, but he had squeezed Zevran's shoulder just as tightly.

“We have each other,” she said now, picking out the hazy outline of the palace against the sunlit ocean. “And he has no one.”

“Not so, my warden.” Zevran moved to stand behind her, lithe arms encircling her waist. “He has us, and we will return to him.” Gently, he kissed her ear. “Always, _mi amora,_ we will return to him.”


End file.
